Phoenix Flames
by Lotusinthedark
Summary: The journey beyond the final battle. Recreating yourself is a painful process. A whole generation of Witches and Wizards working to recreate themselves after the Wizarding World. What will rise from the ashes? Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy. Post-War. Rated M for depression, violence, character death, sexual themes & language. *Please review!*
1. Chapter 1: Proud

**Authors Note: **The characters in this story go through a series of development and changes. The pace is slow and steady. I promise, you'll love it and it's totally worth the wait :) Draco doesn't stay like this forever. And remember that ultimately, this is a romance, not a tragedy.

**Chapter One: Proud**

Everything should have ended. Yet here he was, breathing in, breathing out. He knew his heart was beating. It was probably hammering against his ribcage. However, he felt a void. A heavy, dark weight lingered against his chest where he should feel his heartbeat. It was as though a Dementor had put its hand inside his chest, and wrapped its fingers around his heart. The cold ran so deep it became numbness, nothingness.

Yet, here he lay, heart beating, lungs breathing, body betraying the mind. Light suddenly hit his face. His eyes opened. Hard silver eyes met cold grey stone. He turned his eyes to the high window, where the dawning sun streaked through the thick metal bars. He could hear the rush of the water far below, the sound of the birds. He could taste the salt on the air.

Draco sat up slowly, turning his eyes to the floor of his cell. This had been his home almost since the end of the war. All of the remaining Death Eaters had been arrested following Harry Potter's victory over the Dark Lord. Trials were being organized at top speed. Draco didn't know much beyond that. He had spent most of his time here, locked away in solitary confinement.

The first week Draco had been to Azkaban, the Death Eaters had careful eyes on his family. Their fallout with the Dark Lord had been well known. Whispers and rumors of their true allegiance began to spread. It was soon no secret that Narcissa's failure to correctly identify Potter as dead, had resulted in the ultimate demise of their Lord.

The family chose to sit together, interacting with no one, speaking nothing. Lucius and Narcissa would not touch each other, would not speak. They remained proud and proper. Each day they sat there, backs tall, well groomed, hands folded on the table. Draco sat next to his mother in stony silence day after day. He could feel the fury bubbling in those around them; the threats buried in the glances and sneers.

Hostility began to seep through the cold stones. It began with Lucius. The days passed slowly. He would arrive to meals, new bruises and scars visible on his face and arms. Most guards did nothing. Death Eaters taking care of their own, it seemed, did not create cause for alarm.

Narcissa had pursed her lips the first day he had appeared at their table this way. She remained stony and silent, hands folded neatly in front of her. It only got worse. Every day, Lucius appeared with a new wound, a new bruise, looking more and more battered as the old marks began to fade beneath the new ones. However, he remained unbroken, back tall.

Draco sneered slightly in his mind. The Dark Lord had been the only one capable of breaking his father. Surely his Death Eaters knew they were nothing compared to him?

Rodolphus Lestrange had been the fool to go after his mother.

Draco remembered it clearly. She was late. Lucius and Draco both sat in their stony silence, uncomfortable with the broken routine, but remaining aloof in the eyes of those around them. When Narcissa finally arrived to breakfast that morning, her eye swollen, bruises around her throat, the air seemed to freeze in Draco's lungs. She took her seat silently at Draco's side, folding her hands in front of her. Draco could see her knuckles were bloody and scratched, her nails broken.

Then he looked at his father. Lucius had gone rigid. His silver eyes locked to hers. Draco felt a sudden flicker of power between them. Legilimency and Occlumency. Narcissa closed her eyes, throwing up mental shields. His family had learned this skill through force while the Dark Lord had stayed with them. Occlumency was the only thing that kept his mother alive during that time. She had been against the war long before Lucius and Draco. They had all learned Legilimency for the sake of their survival. It had come suddenly and easily to all of them that last year in the Manor.

His father silently coaxed his mother to let down her shields. A single tear ran down her face. Draco stepped into the memory with his Father, both staring at his mother.

_A hand went over her mouth. She tried to scream, nails digging into a thick arm. A man growled in her ear. Her back was slammed against a wall, a second hand came up to her throat, squeezing there, choking her into silence. The cruel eyes of Rodolphus Lestrange leered at her in the darkness._

"_How much longer do you think you'll be safe here, dear Cissy?" He mocked the old pet name to her face. "You, or that pathetic excuse for a husband, or your blood-traitor of a son?" His eyes narrowed dangerously, "You cost me my wife…"_

_Narcissa bit him. Rodolphus pulled his hand away, then his fist slammed against her face, and she toppled to the floor. A pair of guards came around the corner, their wands suddenly in their hands. Rodolphus was struck in the back with a stunning spell. Narcissa had her head in her arms, trembling._

Draco and his Father came out of the memory at the same moment. Lucius reached a hand out to her and held her face gently in his hand. He wiped a tear away with his thumb. Lucius stood, calmly walking to the guard at the gate. Draco didn't hear the words. He didn't see beyond the second tear sliding down his mother's face.

Blood began to pound in his ears. Sensation swam through his body. He was overwhelmed with emotion. His vision seemed to turn red. Draco remembered standing. He remembered Rodolphus' expression when Draco's hands found his throat, thumbs reaching for his cruel dark eyes. He remembered the first piercing scream as hot blood began to flow between his fingers.

Then the next thing Draco knew, he was lifting his head groggily, the world spinning around him. He knew this feeling. He'd been stunned. He was sitting, bound in chains, blood covering his hands and arms. There was no clarity in his memories.

Ever since that moment, he'd been here. How long had he been sealed away in this solitary confinement? Time had lost meaning. He felt a sickening jolt at the memory of his mother's bruised face. Lucius deserved to be here. Draco deserved to be here. Narcissa did not.

The wall formed a thick metal door. There was an echoing creak as it opened suddenly and unexpectedly. Draco blinked slightly at the change, wondering if he were hallucinating.

Harry Potter stood in the doorway, hand on the door, two wands in his hands. He threw one across the room. Draco caught it deftly between his fingers. Warmth from his wand shivered up his arm, invading the hollowness in his chest, swallowed quickly by the strange numbness. His silver eyes locked to Potter's green ones. A million questions swam through his mind all at once, but only one thing mattered.

"What's happened to my mother, Potter?" Draco's unused voice cracked several times as he tried to speak.

"Narcissa has been out for a while now. Almost your entire time in solitary," Harry replied quietly, tightening his grasp on the doorknob. "She's waiting for you."

"My Father?" he inquired further.

"Sentenced to two year house arrest," Harry replied calmly, putting both hands in his pockets. He snorted lightly, "Lucius made quite a few heavy handed donations to get him and your mother out of here." Harry's mouth thinned slightly. "He's also been stripped of his title as head of Malfoy house."

Accepting the answers, Draco slowly lifted his wand, lying flat in his hand, raising an eyebrow. He wordlessly asked about himself with the gesture.

Harry inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly, "You've been cleared of all charges, Malfoy. We're going back to the auror office now."

Relief briefly sank through Draco, again disappearing the moment that it struck the strange void in his chest, replaced with a powerful self-loathing.

_I don't deserve this. They should leave me here to rot._ He closed his eyes to breathe in, then out. He wanted to lean forward, to rest his head in both hands momentarily. Strange and jumbled emotions lit his insides, some fading into the void, others tightening his throat. Malfoys were proud. The Dark Lord had been the only to break their family. He would not allow another to do it, ever again.

His mask of boredom fell back in place, mental walls went up, his coldness clicked in his silver eyes. Draco stood calmly, pocketing his wand. He ran a hand through his long hair, pushing it from his face, back tall. Harry motioned with his head to follow him in the hall. Draco didn't move for a moment. Proud or not, there was something that needed to be said.

"Thank you," Draco spoke, his voice surprisingly strong. Black eyebrows shot up into a jumbled mess of black hair. Green eyes went wide in shock at the words. Once upon another lifetime, the look would have made Draco sneer. Now however, he felt like a shell of his former self. Silently, Potter turned, and Draco followed.


	2. Chapter 2: Temper, Temper

**Chapter Two: Temper, Temper**

Hermione frowned slightly at the Daily Prophet. The title blared up in large black letters: **Draco Malfoy: Acquitted! **There, on the cover, was a photograph of Harry standing with Draco and his mother, Narcissa. A reporter squeezed into the photograph, pushing towards the silver haired man. Harry put a firm hand on the reporter's shoulder, frowning and shaking his head no.

Hermione took a quick sip of her coffee, pushing her curly hair from her face. She read quickly. _Draco Malfoy was acquitted yesterday of all charges, and emerged from the Ministry of Magic escorted by none other than The Boy Who Lived and Died and Lived Again. There was an uproar of protests at this sudden turn of events. Overwhelming evidence has already been given against the Malfoy heir. Final testimonies were being gathered and Malfoy was scheduled to appear in the Wizengamot later this year. Charges included but were not limited to: conspiracy to commit the murder of Albus Dumbledore, participation with the hate group known as the Death Eaters, the kidnap and torture of Mr. Garrick Ollivander, and the kidnap and torture of Miss Luna Lovegood._

_Malfoy has remained in solitary confinement for the past year due to an attack on one Rodolphus Lestrange. Eye-witness Azkaban guards claimed Malfoy attempted to murder Lestrange within the first month of his awaiting trial. His irrational behavior made him a danger to other prisoners. His appearance in court was denied due to his unpredictable rage._

Hermione went slightly cold at the name Lestrange. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, fingers grasped the paper tightly and her lungs felt heavy and full. She closed her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee and placed it down quickly as she felt her hand begin to shake. Hermione put her hand flat on the surface of the table. The sound of Bellatrix's insane laugh dug into her skull for a moment.

Her vision began to darken. She forgot how to breathe. Hermione began to flex her toes, inhaling sharply. The smell of Mrs. Weasley's cooking, coffee, the Burrow invaded her senses. She could feel the hard chair under her body, the soft air hitting her face from the fan, Crookshanks' tail brushing against her leg. She heard the sizzling sausages on the stove, the buzz of the nearby insects in the garden. Hermione exhaled shakily, reminding herself that the vile woman was dead. Shame flooded her body as she found twisted comfort in the thought. Her eyes snapped open and she continued to read.

_Why then, was his case brought up three months early? Rumor has it that evidence towards the defense was given by none other than Harry Potter. The hero who conquered the Dark Lord appeared before the Wizengamot. Potter's testimony was expected to seal a life sentence for the youngest of the Malfoy family. This unexpected, full pardon has stunned the magical community. Reporters were denied obtaining comments while exiting the Ministry of Magic._

Hermione looked back at the picture. Harry ordered the reporters to leave Draco and Narcissa alone. The two met eyes and nodded curtly at each other. Draco offered his arm to his mother, who took it, and they vanished from the spot. The picture continued to replay, like a short video on the computer. She laid the paper on the table in front of her, shaking her head in exasperation at Harry's behavior.

Her eyes wandered to the Slytherin boy. Draco had aged. One year of solitary confinement had hardened his boyish face. Hermione ground her teeth, drumming her fingers on the table as she looked at him. His hair was past his shoulders and he had grown facial hair during his imprisonment. Silver eyes were cold and empty, almost bored as they locked eyes with the photographer in the picture.

Harry nodded at Malfoy again. She huffed angrily through her lips, folding the paper back up and throwing it to the middle of the table. What had Harry been playing at with this trial? Why had he gotten Malfoy cleared of all charges? This wasn't at all what Hermione thought would happen when Harry had told them all he would be speaking at Malfoy's trial.

Had he been put under the imperius curse? Her eyes widened suddenly at the thought. No, that was foolish. She'd put enough enchantments on the Burrow to know if any unforgivables happened within ten miles. The front door opened and slammed shut. Crookshanks hissed and ran from the room.

Hermione jumped at the sound. Ginny Weasley stormed towards her, picking up a mug and slamming it down with unnecessary force. Wrenching the coffee pot up to fill her cup, she muttered darkly under her breath. Ginny huffed while slamming the pot back down, turning to Hermione and dragging a chair out. The ticking time bomb threw herself into the chair, face turning red in anger. Mrs. Weasley had been preparing breakfast. She paused at Ginny's sudden outburst.

The door creaked open again. Harry walked into the Burrow quietly. Ron followed behind Harry, confusion on his face, but nothing like the anger Ginny was riding right now.

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. Ron nudged his head at Ginny and then the door to the gardens. They had always been able to speak like this, even after their brief awkwardness last year. Kissing each other had seemed so natural when they were fighting to end the second Wizarding War, but afterwards… it seemed wrong.

Hermione nodded calmly, standing with her coffee. "Come on Ginny, let's go for a walk."

"I don't want to go for a walk," Ginny seethed between clenched teeth, tightening her hands on the mug in front of her, eyes glued to Harry. She looked like a snake about to strike. Her voice began to increase in volume, "I want to know why in the name of Merlin Harry stuck his nose out for that son of a b-"

"Ginny, watch your mouth!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, eyes flashing at her daughter. "I'll have none of that under my roof." She put her hands on her hips, pursing her lips and frowning, "Go with Hermione."

Ginny's brown eyes flickered dangerously for a moment. She slammed both hands down on the table, pushing her chair back and picking up her coffee, turning away from Harry and her mother. Long red hair swished through the door before it slammed loudly again as she left the room.

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Hermione watched as Harry's eyes followed Ginny. He turned his gaze to hers. "You understand why I did it, don't you Hermione?"

Her expression softened slightly. Her best friend needed her support. She could hear in his voice that he wanted to hear her say that she understood, and that he had done the right thing. His green eyes pleaded with her to say she had puzzled it all out.

But she couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry Harry… but I really don't understand," she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Draco Malfoy acquitted? After everything that happened that year?" She shook her head in disbelief, sighing slightly. "What did you tell the Wizengamot?"

His shoulders slackened in disappointment. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his glasses pushing up slightly on his face. "I'll explain it to everyone at dinner," he grumbled, walking in and sitting at the table dejectedly. Ron met Hermione's eyes again and she looked over to Mrs. Weasley. The witch busied herself with making plates of food for all of them. Hermione used her wand to hover a couple of plates outside for herself and the fiery tempered redhead.

Ginny had thrown her mug against a tree and it had shattered. She was throwing rocks now, muttering a new string of curses under her breath. Hermione sat down at the nearby picnic table. Ginny saw the food and stormed over, throwing herself on the bench and tearing into a sausage.

Hermione had to admit she was amused that the Weasley's never seemed to lose their appetites. She took a sip of coffee, placing it down and picking up a fork to pick at her eggs. "Why are you this angry with Harry?"

Ginny swallowed, glaring at Hermione in annoyance. "Come on," Ginny raised her eyebrows, leaning towards her friend, "You mean to tell me you're not the _least_ bit upset?"

"I'm confused," Hermione admitted, then felt another flush of anger as she recalled the image of Draco and Harry in the Prophet. "And of course I'm upset. Malfoy has been a slimy git since first year. I can't imagine why Harry would stand up for him." Her brown eyes narrowed slightly at Ginny, "But you seem positively put out about all this. Why?"

Ginny pursed her lips together. She was silent a moment longer, eating another length of sausage before speaking. "Lucius Malfoy," Ginny growled lowly, "And the damned chamber of secrets. I haven't forgotten that the whole thing never would have happened if he hadn't slipped that book in my cauldron at Flourish and Blotts."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Is that why you're upset with Harry?"

"No," Ginny said seriously. Her anger seemed to calm for a moment. She took a deep breath. "After everything last year… I made Harry swear to me, no more secrets. No more," she stabbed at her eggs, "Blasted," she stuck the fork in her mouth, swallowing angrily, "Secrets."

Hermione's eyebrows creased slightly in concern as Ginny's raging temper melted away. "You feel like he was hiding this from you?"

"None of us had a clue what he was up to this time," Ginny muttered, dejectedly poking around the food on her plate. "This happened so fast. He just came back yesterday, told us what he was doing, and we all thought that Malfoy was just gonna rot like a pile of dung in the sun." Ginny put her fork down, "I feel like he should've said something to us _before_ all this went down."

Hermione thought for a moment. She spoke quietly. "Maybe he knew we'd try to talk him out of it."

"Damned right we would've," her friend growled, eating more of her breakfast in a huff. She dropped the fork on her plate and wound her hair in one hand over her shoulder. They fell silent for a few moments. Ginny twisted her hair towards the back of her skull, putting her hands behind her head and stretching slightly. A frown etched itself on her lips as she stared up at the nearby tree for a moment. Hermione could see Ginny imagining a confrontation with Harry about all of this. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she released her hair, the anger somewhat dwindling.

"You're right." Ginny raised her want towards the smashed mug, flicking it once. The broken pieces came zooming back together, and the mug landed lightly on the picnic table. "He didn't want us to talk him out of it. Let me guess, he said he'd explain at dinner?"

Hermione nodded curtly. Ginny smirked, eating the rest of her plate quickly, "Good." Her fork settled back down on her plate, clenched fists resting on the table. "That gives me a few hours to get the story first." Her dark eyes flickered dangerously to the house, narrowing in anger, "And remind Potter of the promise he made about secrets."

A grimace crossed Hermione's face as Ginny stood, fierce as a dragon, marching back to the house. Harry wasn't going to be able to escape Ginny's temper this time. She shook her head, picking up her fork and poking around at the food on her plate.

Her appetite had not come back after the near panic attack at the kitchen table. Hermione quickly distracted herself before those thoughts could circle back to her. Her eyes locked onto Crookshanks, who was stalking something within the nearby bushes. He pounced, and there was a sudden squeal of laughter. A cluster of gnomes darted out in all directions. Crookshanks mewed loudly, body low, preparing to dart after his chosen target.

The smell of the summer flowers wafted in the air. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the sun on her skin, the breeze tossing her hair around her shoulders. The gnomes squealed again. Distractions were welcome, but her appetite had long gone. Hermione pushed her plate away, lifting her coffee to her lips and silently drifting into her thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3: Luna

**Chapter Three: Luna**

Returning to the Wizarding World was not without a few complications. Lucius had been put under house arrest nearly a year ago, and stripped of his title as Head of the Malfoy Family. That meant Draco, as the official heir, was now stepping in to the new title of Head of the Malfoy Family. This called for the signing of many complicated, magically binding documents. Draco had been trained since a young age to understand and accept the responsibilities facing him now.

There were several magical powers that passed down through the generations of the oldest families. Secret magic, dwelling dormant in his blood, only to be awakened when the last magical contract was signed. After that, he would be able to enter a sacred chamber of the Malfoy Manor to train the inherited magic. It was old world magic, something that couldn't be taught, but awakened within the blood of his family. Due to the sudden loss of title, Lucius had completely lost the ability to use it or speak of it. Draco would be the first in generations to train himself alone.

Cold silver eyes blinked lightly as the first signs of sunrise winked through the room. Draco sat up slowly, left arm tingling unpleasantly. Every day started this way. Draco put a hand over the Dark Mark absent mindedly. The discomfort every morning had become routine.

Had he slept? Draco blinked, glancing around him. He sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, a couch to one side of him, table on the other. No… he had been almost in a trance, until the light began to challenge his eyes in the dark. He had been reading, there were many books surrounding him on the floor. Most of them were potion books.

At some point in the darkness of the night, Draco had laid down on the floor, attempting to give himself over to blissful sleep. He glanced over towards his four poster bed. Deep, Slytherin green velvet curtains draped luxuriously at each corner. The soft bed looked inviting. However, Draco hadn't touched it since his return to the Manor.

_You don't deserve to be back here_. The cold voice in his head whispered. _What are you playing at, accepting the title as Head of the Malfoy Family?_

Ignoring the voice, Draco walked towards his cabinet of potions. Dreamless sleep potions were terribly addictive when used long term, and Draco had been using it nearly every night since his return to the Manor. He couldn't face the Ministry today without at least an hour of sleep. He took a spoonful, and felt his mind growing heavy.

_You could brew a Draught of Living Death and mix it with the Dreamless Sleep Potion_. His mind whispered as he sat on the black leather couch in front of the balcony doors. _Then you could sleep… and never wake up again._

Several hours later, Draco calmly entered the Ministry of Magic. He was somewhat refreshed from the brief sleep at dawn, well dressed, closely shaven, and long hair cut just so he could pull it back in a ponytail for the time being. His robes were dark black, crisply ironed, and impeccably tailored. Shoes of dark green dragon scales clicked sharply on the marble floor of the Ministry.

Witches and Wizards seemed to give him a wide berth. Some seemed afraid of him. Others sneered at him, and he could see it from the corner of his eye. Draco pressed the button for the lift, back tall and appearing completely unfazed. Internally, his lungs felt as though they were on fire.

The lift came, and Draco stepped in alone, as no other person wished to be so close to him. As the metal slid shut, he looked out through the Ministry with his bored expression. Everyone was staring at him. Draco suddenly felt like he was on display in a cage of a zoo. His chest tightened painfully. He exhaled slowly, inhaling deeply, and exhaling slowly again. Maybe it had been a mistake to come to the Ministry to do this.

Regretfully, Draco pressed the button for the Department of Mysteries. He hadn't understood why they handled the paperwork for Malfoy Manor, but it was out of his control.

The lift paused on the next floor and opened unexpectedly. He came face to face with Pansy Parkinson. Her dark eyes locked to his cold gaze immediately. Draco could see it coming before she even took one step towards him.

Pansy marched inside the lift, her voice patronizing as she congratulated him for being rescued by the Hero who conquered the Dark Lord. The lift closed behind her. "Not so confident now, are you Draco?"

Her biting words continued, she insulted his parents, sneered at his long hair, and then began to blatantly accuse him of being a blood traitor. He stopped focusing on her words. The moment the lift had closed, Draco began to focus on his breathing. He was determined to remain untouchable here. Pansy wasn't going to ruin this for him.

Pansy's voice rose in volume when she realized Draco wouldn't take the bait. When the lift opened again, she raised her hand and slapped him full across the face, storming from the lift and out of sight. Draco exhaled through clenched teeth, the sting of her slap sharp against his face.

The lift closed again. He ignored the eyes that openly gawked each time the lift stopped on a floor. Soon, he made it down to the Department of Mysteries. The eerily silent hall reminded Draco of the incident several years ago when his father had first been sent to Azkaban. The memory made blood pound in his temple. That had been the night his mother had begged his father to run. Narcissa Malfoy did not beg, yet she had. The witch had pleaded with Lucius to take their family and go into hiding. Lucius had sworn that they would do so after securing this prophecy, and favor with the Dark Lord.

Then everything unraveled when Lucius had been caught.

Draco stepped through the dark black marble door to the Entrance Chamber. An Unspeakable stood there, waiting for him. They walked toward the rounded walls of the room, through an open door. Draco silently sat down to sign paperwork. The Unspeakable working with him frowned deeply at the sight of him. Draco deserved it, he knew. However, none of their displeasure would stop him from carefully reading every detail before signing.

It was mid-day by the time Draco finally finished. Just his luck, as he stepped out of the lift to the Atrium, there was a small crowd of angry protesters surrounding the fountain. Draco kept his mask in place as he tried to move beyond them. Several wands raised towards his face. Draco braced himself for pain.

Guards quickly came forward to break up the protesting group. Draco was temporarily shoved into a secret hallway behind a tapestry. It was full of windows with bright sunlight. He blinked slightly as his eyes adjusted to the change.

His feet froze when he realized he wasn't alone. Someone stood at the other end of the hall. Luna Lovegood rushed towards Draco. He closed his eyes, turning his head slightly, preparing for the sting of her hand. It never came. He opened his eyes slowly to see Luna staring straight at his chest. She raised a hand and poked him hard over his heart. Draco's eyebrows creased in confusion. He had never understood this girl.

"Hello again Draco Malfoy," Luna spoke, as if it were perfectly normal to approach someone this way. Her eyes were still glued to his chest. "All done in the Department of Ministries?"

Caught off guard, Draco merely stared at her, uncertain what to say.

"I don't particularly like it down there. It's too dark. I much prefer to see you in the sunlight rather than that cellar. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Absolutely," Draco spoke quietly. He wasn't sure if she was talking about Malfoy Manor or the Department of Mysteries. Glancing down at her hand, somewhat amused, somewhat disturbed by her strange greeting, he asked, "What are you are doing?"

"Oh I was just dropping off some paperwork for Rolf Scamander. He's sharing some of his Magizoologist research." She smiled, still staring at his chest. Draco was about to say that wasn't what he was asking, when she continued, "Come in close contact with a Dementor, have you?" Luna lifted her large knowing to meet his. She hadn't moved her finger, it was digging into his skin.

"Come again?" Draco asked in confusion.

Luna poked her finger a little harder, her voice suddenly strange in his ears. "You've got a black hole in your chest."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. How in the name of Merlin could this girl see that? He couldn't mask his face at that statement. Luna's fingers pressed to the center of the void he had felt growing in his body for the past year.

"I haven't seen a Dementor since the final battle," Draco muttered quietly, reaching to brush her finger away from his chest, "They don't guard Azkaban anymore."

Her fingers fell away, but her eyes remained locked to his. Her strange ability not to blink bothered him. "It is what I think it is, isn't it?" she spoke to herself, then nodded her head as though she were agreeing with someone Draco couldn't hear.

Luna dug in her bag and pulled a strange pendant in to sight. She threw it over Malfoy's head. "Dad and I made some of these after Mom died," Luna explained calmly, "The seed of a Dementor is in your heart. It was in ours, too." Draco felt his breath catch at those words. "We've been giving them to others who are still healing from the final battle." Her eyes glanced down at his chest for a moment, then she smiled at the pendant, "Oh, good, it's working for you too. I had hoped it might."

He glanced down at the pendant now on his chest. It was a simple looking thing. Soft black rope held the image of a small, silver Phoenix. The charm made him think of the order of the Phoenix. That made him think of Dumbledore. Dumbledore made him think of the Dark Mark on the astronomy tower. The astronomy tower made him-

"Oh dear," Luna muttered sadly. Her lips had turned down at the corners. Draco's eyes flickered towards her quickly. "This is a dark seed." Luna pulled her wand from behind her ear, pressing it to the charm on Draco's chest. A soft flash of silver emitted. The pendant became suddenly warm. Draco had a sudden random thought of flying over the Astronomy Tower his first year.

"That's a bit better," Luna said cheerfully, her mouth curving upwards again. "I'll recharge it again the next time we meet. See you soon, Draco Malfoy." She returned her wand behind her ear and turned to go.

"Luna," Draco spoke suddenly, fists clenching at his sides. The large eyed girl turned to him calmly, and he continued, "I am sorry for-"

Luna held up a hand to stop him. "I know, Draco," her eyes glanced down towards the pendant again. She smiled. "I forgive you."

His feet rooted to the ground. Draco's eyes widened. His shoulders relaxed slightly. The relief that ran through him was quickly beaten down by his mind. _You don't deserve forgiveness. You deserve to crawl into a black hole and never see the sun. You shouldn't accept this pendant. Give it back._

"I hope you learn how to forgive yourself," Luna said in her strange dreamy voice, "Until next time, Draco Malfoy."

He was about to protest her forgiveness. He was about to rip the pendant from his chest and throw it back to her. However, Luna stepped through the entrance to the Atrium and was gone. Draco wasn't sure why he felt a little lighter. He tucked the pendant under his shirt. The warm silver charm sat in the center of the numb spot in his chest, pressing into it, challenging its existence.


	4. Chapter 4: Memories

**Chapter Four: Memories**

_Pain flared through every cell of Hermione's body. She screamed. She couldn't breathe. Was that her screaming? It sounded like someone else. Was she dead yet? Why was she screaming? Where was she? Hermione couldn't think. The pain became unbearable. Was she still breathing?_

_The pain ended suddenly, Bellatrix Lestrange's terrible scream of, "Tell the Truth! Tell the Truth!" ricocheted around Hermione's pounding skull._

_The pain was back- even more consuming. Hermione writhed on the floor in agony, unable to stop the screams from passing her lips. Bellatrix stopped again. She was speaking. Hermione's brain barely understood the words. She felt her own voice rasp from her throat, the sensation agony. What was she saying? She sobbed uncontrollably, "It's a copy! Just a copy…"_

_Searing pain consumed her once again. Dying would be better. Dying would be so much better. Her scream tore at her throat-_

"Hermione!"

Her eyes snapped open, she sat bolt upright. Ginny and George were pale, staring at her with wide brown eyes. Hermione couldn't breathe. She sobbed, bringing her knees up to her face. She was trembling, hyperventilating, and she couldn't stop. Ginny wrapped her arms around her tightly. "Go get Mum," she muttered softly to George. He nodded, standing silently and drifting from the room.

Mrs. Weasley soon bustled into the room. "There, there, now, dear," she spoke soothingly as she sat next to Ginny, "Drink this up." She held a dreamless sleep potion in her hand, which she helped Hermione to down. Soon, Hermione slumped forward, unconscious, against Ginny.

"She's needed that a lot recently," George spoke quietly. He gently lifted Hermione off of Ginny, laying her back down on the bed. Ginny lifted the blankets back over Hermione, brushing her curly hair from her face. "Should we be worried about her getting addicted to that stuff, Mum?"

"Let's not worry about that now." Mrs. Weasley smiled tiredly at George, refusing to answer the question. She yawned slightly, kissed her daughter on the cheek, and stood to do the same to George. "Try to get back to sleep now, won't you?"

She silently bustled from the room.

George had moved back home at the end of the battle last year. He hadn't been able to sleep in the apartment above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes after losing Fred. George also wasn't able to sleep in the twin's old room. Ginny hadn't been able to sleep alone in her bedroom anymore. She kept having nightmares, and had begun sleepwalking. The entire house had woken several times as Ginny had crashed down the stairs. Hermione couldn't go back home to the Muggle World. Her parents were still Obliviated in Australia. The three of them kept falling asleep in the living room, night after night.

With some tricky magic, resulting in several half-hearted lectures from Mrs. Weasley, they had succeeded in adding a new room to the side of the house. The twin's old room remained somewhat of a memorial to Fred, and Ginny's old room had become a bit of space for Mrs. Weasley's knitting projects.

That was how Ginny, George and Hermione had ended up sharing a room in the Burrow. The three of them seemed to suffer from nightmares more than the rest of the family. Hermione had put a permanent silencing charm on the room so that the entire house wouldn't be woken if they screamed in the middle of the night. George and Ginny's had faded some over the past year. Night terrors were an irregular occurrence for them now. Hermione's seemed to grow steadily worse and more frequent as time went on.

George pulled his long red hair out of his face as he sat back on his bed, watching Hermione. He sighed, pulling his blankets up over his legs. "I thought the mind healers were supposed to help her stop having those fits."

"That's what they say they're doing." Ginny muttered wearily, running a hand across her face and yawning as she slumped back down in her own bed.

"Load of Codswollop," George growled. "Those mind healers just made everything worse for me. Looks like they're doing the same to her." Ginny frowned at George but didn't say anything. Truth be told, the mind healers had also made things worse for her. Maybe they worked better for other people? George lay down on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "...Or maybe talking about Malfoy tonight triggered it."

Ginny yawned again, falling back down against her pillow. "I'd put a hundred galleons on that bet," she murmured, recalling the conversation they'd had hours earlier.

Dinner had been delicious. A light summer salad, butternut squash soup, soft fluffy buns, rosemary chicken legs, potatoes, and a stunningly beautiful trifle for dessert. Mrs. Weasley had a tendency to make the food even more delicious than usual when there were difficult conversations at hand. They retired to the living room with tea as the dishes began to clink softly in the sink.

Arthur sighed in contentment, kissing Molly's cheek as she sat next to him. "That was wonderful, Molly dear. Thank you!"

A murmuring of agreement and gratitude traveled throughout the room at this. Mrs. Weasley beamed at them all for their compliments. She sat back into the couch, sighing in contentment as Arthur's arm draped over her shoulder.

"Now then," Mr. Weasley pressed, blue eyes peering over his glasses, "I'm sure we'd all like to hear what happened today at the Wizengamot, Harry."

Everyone's gaze shifted towards the dark haired man. Harry had his elbows resting on his knees, hands folded together in front of him, tea sitting untouched on the table in front of him. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, straightening his back and resting his elbow against the armrest as he scratched his hair, pondering the best place to start the story.

"Well… it started out like all the other trials," Harry began quietly, "All those formalities, the record keeper, the witnesses to the trail...but Malfoy wasn't there." He frowned slightly, "That was weird. Prisoners are supposed to be there so they can speak up for themselves. His mother was there, but she wasn't supposed to be saying anything. They went on and on with all the charges against him."

Harry reached forward to lift his tea, took a sip, and leaned back in his chair, holding the cup in both hands as he continued, "They started trying to ask me questions but I stopped them and asked why Malfoy wasn't present at his own trial. Somebody started to explain that Draco had attempted to murder another prisoner the first month he was there." Harry shrugged slightly. "You read the paper. But then Narcissa stood up."

"She did what?" Molly exclaimed, aghast. "They could've thrown her from the court!"

"They did." Harry said quietly. Everyone inhaled sharply, "But not before she said her piece. She said that her son wasn't possessed by irrational fits of rage, but that he had gone after that prisoner, because she'd been attacked. Went further to say that the guards didn't care what happened to any of the lot of Death Eaters- not even the ones who joined Voldemort to save their families." He exhaled deeply again, "And she said… Draco had no choice but to take the dark mark after Lucius had been sent to jail from the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries."

Harry grit his teeth slightly and moved on quickly, as though he could still see the veil where Sirius had disappeared. "They removed her from the court after she said that. Then, I remembered… in the pensieve… Snape talked about that… how Draco had been given the task to kill Dumbledore, as a punishment… how they expected Draco to die. I'd forgotten it, with everything else that's been going on. I asked them to retrieve the memory."

His gaze shifted towards Hermione and Ron, "Then I told them how Malfoy didn't identify us, the night we were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor."

All of them tensed at the mere memory of that night. Hermione swallowed painfully, clenching her jaw. Her hand unconsciously slid to the cut at her throat, where Bellatrix's cursed blade had pressed into her skin. Harry continued, "He knew it was us. He recognized you two, at least. I think he was lying when he said he couldn't be sure. If Malfoy had given us up that night…"

Mrs. Weasley sniffed lightly. Harry moved on quickly.

"I expected them to sentence him to a few years," Harry admitted, "A full acquittal? Never even crossed my mind!" His dark eyebrows rose into his hair, "It's done now, though." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "I went to get him from Azkaban myself."

"Harry," Ron interrupted, "Why in the name of Merlin's socks would you **want** to go see Malfoy in Azkaban?"

"...Ron, if Draco hadn't disarmed Dumbledore to begin with…" Hermione began slowly, "Then Harry never would have beaten Voldemort in the first place… he would've won when he killed Snape."

Everyone sat in stunned silence for a few heartbeats. "Well, I'll be damned," George muttered, running a hand over his face, sounding uncertain, "I guess the little ferret deserves it?"

"You give him back that Hawthorn, then?" Ron inquired curiously.

"Yup," Harry replied simply, swirling his tea, "And you'll never guess what he said."

George mocked Malfoy's sneering face and tone, "Oh, what now? Famous Harry Potter come to-"

"He thanked me," Harry interrupted.

Ginny and Hermione's jaws dropped. A sudden burst of laughter choked the rest of George's sentence. "He did not!" Ron bellowed in shock.

Hermione opened her eyes groggily. She sat up slowly, feeling the soft pounding in her skull that told her she'd been given a dose of dreamless sleep again. Quietly, she put on her slippers, wrapping her robe around her and tiptoeing towards the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was sitting at the table, sitting her tea, a cup of coffee already prepared for Hermione. She sat down, lifting the hot mug to her lips gratefully, muttering a soft thanks to Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley began to bustle about the kitchen to make breakfast, the sounds of the crickets floating in with the gentle morning breeze. Soon, the dull ache in Hermione's head dissipated.

"Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said as she began to lay out a few plates, "I need some help with the shopping today. Let's go to Diagon Alley, just the two of us."

Something about spending the day shopping with Mrs. Weasley made Hermione think about being with her own mother. It hurt her heart, and filled her with warmth all at the same time. She smiled at the woman over her mug, "I'd really like that, Mrs. Weasley."


	5. Chapter 5: Crucio

**Chapter Five: Crucio**

Draco sat at the edge of the elaborate white marble fountain, resting his elbows on his knees. The peacocks had begun their morning ritual, pacing along the tall marble gates. At least they weren't crying out to each other this morning.

He hadn't slept, and he'd refused to take the dreamless sleep potion again. Draco sighed deeply. That was going to call for some experimentation. Bottom line, he couldn't sleep without it, but he had no desire to grow addicted to it. There had to be a way to make it non-habit forming.

All night, he had searched Malfoy Manor and the surrounding property for the secret room. The room was said to house knowledge of the new, inherited powers Draco now possessed. When his Father had been stripped of his title, he'd also been stripped entirely of the memories pertaining to the power. _It doesn't matter you can't find it… You're not intelligent enough to figure this out alone._

Wearily, he pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, feeling a slight headache behind his eyes. He'd continue the hunt another day. One of the peacocks began to cry out for its mate. The piercing sound dug into his temples. Rays of sun danced suddenly against the giant windows of the Manor. Standing, Draco walked towards the library.

Part of the Manor had been abandoned ever since Voldemort had taken refuge in the home. Terrible memories haunted the halls, for all of them. There was a smaller dining hall and balcony just beyond the library. Narcissa had decided that they would take up their Post-War life on this side of their home.

Lucius was already sitting at the table, drinking his tea and reading the Daily Prophet with a frown. Draco glanced at the title he could see across the front of the page: _**Under Fire**_**. **With a flick of the wand, Draco pulled up his own coffee, adding two sugars and a bit of cream. He sipped at it in silence as he sat at the table.

Conversations had been strained with his Father lately. Most days went like this, settling into a mildly tolerable silence until Narcissa arrived.

Not today, though.

"I need you to do something for me," Lucius stated, folding his paper and setting it down on the table between them.

"Me?" Draco raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Usually his Father would send servants on errands. "Why me?"

"Because it's a family matter," Lucius snapped coldly. He pulled a box from his robes and handed it to Draco, motioning for him to open it. "Take this to Diagon Alley, the jewelry shop."

Draco opened the box and stared for a moment. There was a broken silver necklace with three emeralds sitting in the box. Bellatrix had yanked it from his mother's neck the night that Potter and the others had gotten away. Narcissa had been extremely distraught, as it had been a gift from their mother the day Draco was born. It had possessed a special protection charm, until Bellatrix broke it. He closed the box gently, placing it down on the table. "Does Mother know about this?"

"I intend to surprise her," Lucius continued in his icy tone. Draco wanted to roll his eyes. His parents were the only people he knew that could love each other so much, yet almost pride themselves in their ability to pretend they did not.

"She'll notice it's gone." Draco commented quietly, picking up his coffee and taking another sip.

"Of course she will," Lucius picked up the paper again, "Which is why you'll be going as soon as they open. I expect it back this evening, fully repaired, whatever the cost."

"Yes, Father."

They fell back into their familiar, strained silence until Narcissa arrived to ease the tension.

An hour later, Draco found himself apparating to Diagon Alley. He'd worn a hat and sunglasses in an attempt to blend in with the morning shoppers. The jewelry shop owner was just turning the sign to open as he approached. Judging by the expression on the man's face, he wasn't pleased to be serving the Malfoy family, but few establishments would flat out deny a service with the price tag required for this item. It was going to take most of the day to repair.

Draco was not looking forward to spending the day mulling around Diagon Alley. The moment someone recognized him on the street, he'd be forced to put up with an onslaught of public ridicule. His headache lingered behind his left eye. He didn't need any help making that worse.

There were very few people out this early. A few people glanced in his direction as they hurried towards their goals. One witch pauses and did a double take. Deciding that staying still was not an option, Draco began to wind his way through the streets.

He saw the Daily Prophet for sale nearby. His Father took hours reading the Daily Prophet and several other news articles every day. Draco hadn't been able to get his hands on a copy this morning. He purchased one, and tucked it inside of his robes for later.

Wandering let him see what had changed over the past year. Several shops were still boarded up, but many seemed to be thriving once more. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was an eyesore compared to the surrounding shops. However, he had to begrudgingly admit that those two were well suited to the world of business.

His stomach lurched uncomfortably when he remembered that there was only one Weasley running the shop now. Unbidden, he flashed back to the Weasley family mourning the loss of their son in the Great Hall. His mind transported his mother, then his father, lying down among the dead. He shut down his thoughts, changing directions quickly.

Ollivander's was back. He froze at the sight of the shop. More unwanted images of Ollivander, writhing in pain... Bellatrix and Voldemort torturing the old man. He felt suddenly sick to his stomach. He ground all of his teeth together, forcing his breathing to remain calm.

_Walk in there, and maybe Ollivander would Kadavra you on the spot_, the merciless little voice in his head contemplated. Ignoring the thought, Draco turned away. He passed the first few hours anxiously waiting for someone to recognize him. However, most shoppers seemed so keen on their own journey, that few seemed to take any notice of him.

Around lunch time, Draco wandered towards a cafe. He silently ordered his food and drink, finding a secluded table outside. It seemed many Witches and Wizards were still hesitant to linger too long in public. Pulling out the Daily Prophet, he took in the full headline that he had missed at the table this morning. _**Breakouts: Azkaban Security Under Fire.**_

Draco froze. Was this common now? He quickly skimmed through the article. _Four accused Death Eaters awaiting trial escaped late last night… First breakout since those orchestrated by You-Know-Who... Azkaban Guards unwilling to comment… Are we safe?_

No. Anytime a breakout had happened, a job had been done the next day. The paper hadn't always reported this. They hadn't always tracked the work of the Death Eaters in real time, and the Dark Lord had muffled the paper that entire year. Draco had discovered the pattern quickly when Death Eaters took over his home. He put the paper down, mind buzzing, suddenly alert and wary from every angle.

He had sat in a perfect location. His back was to the shop window, and the end of the alley was to his left. No one could sneak up on him from behind. His eyes glanced around quickly. His head jolted back suddenly when he saw, barely two tables away, Hermione Granger and Molly Weasley. What were they doing here? How hadn't he noticed them approach? Why were they sitting here, when this newspaper talked about a breakout? Why was he here? Why was anyone in Diagon Alley today?

An unpleasant image of Hermione writhing on the floor under Bellatrix's Crucio shot through his mind's eye. Draco closed his eyes, willing it away. That was a mistake. Eyes closed, he could hear her scream. He had never seen Bellatrix torture anyone like that. His Aunt had put Draco under her Crucio several times, to train him, to teach him how to hold his tongue. He'd screamed, yes, but not like Hermione. He never wanted to hear that sound again. His silver eyes shot open, unable to withstand the memory of her scream.

Draco felt a sudden burn in his left arm. His eyes widened in shock. He knew that feeling. Silently, several masked Wizards and Witches began to converge towards Hermione and Molly Weasley.

"DOWN!" Draco roared, leaping from his seat. Both of them dove under the table without hesitation. They weren't the only ones who hit the ground. Two hexes soared just where they had been sitting, streaking past their table and narrowly missing several other people. Screams began to start all around them.

His eyes were locked on that mask. How he **hated** that mask. He felt a strangely familiar pounding in his ears. The mask came closer and closer to him. Or was he approaching the masked face? His wand seemed to be moving without his help, without his thought. His Petrificus Totalus spell slammed into the mask of the Death Eater in front of him. Draco stepped forward, ripping the mask off and slamming his fist into the face of Gregory Goyle. The man fell back and slammed against the hard stone with a loud clatter.

Goyle? Goyle had never been a Death Eater! Confusion seeped into Malfoy's rage. What was going on?

Suddenly an image of brown curls caught his eye at the edge of his vision. A single thought brought him back slightly. Granger was dueling? A flash of red hair- the Weasley mother was at it, too. Draco turned. There was another one approaching the red haired woman from behind. He moved forward and raised his wand- when the red hair whipped around and slammed an awful hex to the Death Eater. The force of the attack sent Draco staggering backwards, and then an unexpected jinx hit him in the shoulder. He toppled, slamming into Granger. Both of their wands went flying.

Draco heard the spell. "CRUCIO!"

_I can't hear her scream again!_ The bottom of his stomach felt like it dropped out. Without another thought, he grabbed Hermione by both arms and rolled so she was pinned to the ground. The spell hit him instead. He dug his fingers into her arms, gritting his teeth as pain spiked through every cell of his body. His back arched and a scream lit up the air before he bit his lip, drawing blood to stop it. _Bellatrix's was so much worse. _He reminded himself as he forced his trembling hand to reach for his wand.

"Flipendo!" Mrs. Weasley cried. The Death Eater was knocked back through a nearby shop window and the torture ceased. Draco's body relaxed. He grasped his wand tightly, head spinning slightly from the pain.

Suddenly, loud pops rang through the air all around them. Cries of "STUPEFY!" echoed throughout the market. Draco ducked his head under his arm, surprised to suddenly have a face full of soft, thick hair. He recoiled sharply, eyes wide. A scent of lavender and lilac followed him. Their eyes met for a brief moment before one of the red jets of light struck him in the back, and he blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6: Shopping

**Chapter Six: Shopping**

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were the last to depart the burrow after breakfast. The quietness was strange. Mrs. Weasley was gathering her purse and finalizing her list of things she needed to buy, so Hermione sat in the living room waiting. Thoughts about how everything had happened in the past year rolled through her mind.

Arthur and Percy were back at the Ministry. A year after the death of Voldemort, and Arthur was back to the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, although, he was proud to say, his office now had the best windows in the whole Ministry. Percy was back to his post as the Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic. Kingsley Shacklebolt had reinstated Percy's position following the war. Bill and Fleur remained at Shell Cottage, Bill working with the Goblins of Gringotts to enhance their security without the use of tortured Dragons. Charlie returned to Romania after the war, taking Hagrid with him last summer to reunite with Norberta. Ginny would go back to Hogwarts for her seventh year following the summer break, but she had enrolled in a summer Quidditch training program that took up her week days. George had returned to running Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, with his friend Lee Jordan as a new business partner. Lee and George seemed to bring each other out of their darkness when their grief for Fred threatened their sanity.

When they had shared plans with the family that morning, George had absolutely insisted that they stop by the shop first, to have tea and see the new products he and Lee were cooking up.

"Hermione?"

Unsurprisingly, Ron and Harry had moved immediately into Auror training following the final battle. Kingsley had allowed them to do so without so much of a hint of asking for their N.E.W.T. scores.

Hermione had been the only one of the trio to return to Hogwarts to complete her education. She'd insisted on doing the whole thing properly. Professor McGonagall took her on as a teaching assistant to the first year transfiguration students, which provided Hermione with a stipend that covered her expenses, and built a small savings in Gringotts.

Ron and Harry had balked at the idea of returning to Hogwarts, after everything that had happened. They didn't understand. After the war, she'd traveled to Australia to attempt to undo the magic herself. It had been a catastrophic failure. Her own Father had called the police, and she'd been forced to disappear.

When Hermione returned to the burrow, sobbing uncontrollably, Arthur had put in a few calls to friends at the Ministry. Within a week, St. Mungo's Healers had volunteered to come with her to Australia to try and mend the memory charms Hermione had cast to protect them. No one was able to undo the damage that had been done. Wendell and Monica Wilkins remained obliviated.

Hermione had clung to the last tiny hope that Hogwarts would hold the key to bring them back to her. She'd been given access to every book in the school, but… nothing.

"Hermione?"

A small lump caught in her throat at the thought. She inhaled deeply and exhaled, swallowing hard. Just a few weeks ago, Hermione had graduated. Her Mom and Dad hadn't been there to congratulate her, or hug her, or tell her how proud they were. Surrounded by the Weasley's, Harry, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall that day was wonderful, but their presence didn't make up for the absence of her parents.

Letters were coming daily with job offers for Hermione from all across the Wizarding World. Graduation night, Hermione returned to the burrow to a stack of twenty letters lying on her bed. Many more arrived daily, and she calmly tucked them into a box under her bed, unopened, without a reply. As a Graduation gift, countless Witches and Wizards around the world had sent generous donations to her vault in Gringotts. When Hermione had protested this, Mrs. Weasley had just smiled and handed her a gigantic box of thank you cards for her to send back to her well wishers. Hermione was now immensely grateful to have been given such a generous gift, so that she could take her time to figure things out.

"Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley laid a hand on her shoulder gently. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

Brown curls bounced as she jumped, turning her gaze quickly to Mrs. Weasley. "Sorry," Hermione gasped, standing, "I got lost in thought."

Mrs. Weasley gave her a serious searching look for a brief moment. It startled Hermione. The woman then smiled, turning towards the front door, "Ready then?"

"Er- yes!" Hermione said quickly, following Mrs. Weasley. She reached to adjust her handbag to realize it was missing. "Oh- no, not quite… what did I do with my handbag?"

"You're wearing it, dear!" Mrs. Weasley laughed softly.

Hermione paused, reaching back to her shoulder. She _was_ wearing it. But… she'd just felt it missing. That was strange… she shook her head slightly, smiling sheepishly, "Of course I am."

Sunshine warmed her face and hands as she stepped outside. The two witches walked outside the protection spells of the Burrow so they could apparate. Fragrant floral breezes floated from the garden. She inhaled deeply, smiling slightly. It was a beautiful morning. Deciding that this would be a good day, she turned on the spot, apparating in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to join George and Lee for tea.

George and Lee were thrilled to see them both. They'd left the shop in the hands of employees to take the ladies on the roof. Lee had transformed it into a beautiful rooftop garden. "Mostly the Muggle way," he said with a wink at Mrs. Weasley. "George interfered with a few growing charms."

"It was so slow, Lee," George argued with a grin, "I was just… helping it along!"

Hermione smiled softly to notice how George had adopted his mother's habit of always having too much food. Three self-pouring tea pots of different flavors, self-stirring teacups and an endless supply of cookies and treats floating on plates around the table. Everyone sat down and the dishes began to serve them quickly. The teapots immediately determined which tea would be best suitable for each person at the table, and served the tea exactly to their liking. George no longer spared any expense. They began to drink and nibble as George and Lee rocketed through explanations of their new products. Several times, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione nearly had tea coming out of their noses.

After an hour or two, Mrs. Weasley declared that they really did need to be on about their shopping. They said their goodbyes, George calling out that he'd love to have those delicious meatballs for dinner. The red haired woman smiled at her son. Hermione saw her shopping list magically float out of her pocket, and a self-writing quill added his request to the list. George beamed at her. The notepad was yet another one of his carefully sought out gifts. George had made certain that his parents would never have to worry about money again, and he enjoyed being able to spoil them with every useful and interesting object he could find.

Shopkeepers beamed as Hermione and Mrs. Weasley entered. Everywhere they went, managers came to greet them and assist with the purchases. They flat out refused to allow the women to carry the heavy parcels, insisting to allow them to mail the packages home. Hermione merely smiled as she charmed all the purchases to easily fit in her handbag. Each time she did this, shopkeeper's jaws dropped in surprise. Mrs. Weasley was chuckling as they left their final shop.

"You know, Hermione, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Mrs. Weasley declared in a very motherly voice. "How about we have a sit down, and get a bite of lunch at that new cafe?"

"The appetite of your family will never cease to amaze me," Hermione groaned, putting a hand over her stomach. "I'll just have something to drink."

Hermione ended up with a delicious raspberry flavored iced tea, and a small chicken salad at Mrs. Weasley's insistence. They sat down at a table in the sunshine, and Mrs. Weasley calmly went charging into the conversation. "I think that Mind Healer of yours isn't doing you any good. I want you to go back to St. Mungo's for a re-evaluation."

She'd expected this. Night terrors would come, and there would be no memory of them happening. Ginny had started helping her keep a log of them over the last few months at Hogwarts, and George had the thought to add in the doses of the dreamless sleep potion after Graduation. The evidence was undeniable: frequency and severity had been steadily increasing for weeks. She was about to reluctantly agree when several things happened all at the same time.

"DOWN!" a voice roared. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley dove under the table without hesitation. Two hexes soared just where they had been sitting, streaking past their table and narrowly missing several other people. A man ran past their table, in the direction where one of the spells had been cast. Loud screams began to start all around them.

Hermione ripped her wand from her bag, looking quickly to see none other than Draco Malfoy fiercely dueling down a masked Death Eater. Her blood ran cold for a moment. She hadn't seen that mask in a year. What was going on? Another spell shot towards her. A shield charm silently flicked from her wand and she whirled around, beginning to duel, counting them- one, two, three, four, five, six- Mrs. Weasley's Oppugno Jinx sent the tables and chairs of the cafe flying through the air, sending a death eater toppling beheathe their weight. His screaming became muffled as the tables began to crush him.

That left five. Hermione barely blocked a nasty Stinging Jinx, sending a well aimed Pimple curse in the face of the nearest masked figure. He howled, dropping his wand to the ground.

Four left. Mrs. Weasley was facing off another. Hermione saw the one Draco was dueling hit the ground.

Three.

Hermione quickly cast a shield charm, then lifted her wand to retaliate with her own Oppugno Jinx when someone crashed into her. The breath was knocked out of her as she slammed painfully to the ground, wand flying from her hand.

Hermione's body froze as she heard the spell. "CRUCIO!"

_NO! Not again!_ She went rigid as terror iced her insides. Hands roughly grabbed Hermione by both arms and rolled her over, pinning her back to the ground. He screamed, body locking in pain as the spell hit him instead. Hermione stared, unable to comprehend what was happening. Draco Malfoy. She saw him bite his lip, drawing blood to stop screaming. A trembling hand fought the pain to reach for his wand.

"Flipendo!" Mrs. Weasley cried. The Death Eater was knocked back through a nearby shop window and the torture ceased. His body relaxed. He grasped his wand tightly, silver eyes glaring towards the Death Eater that had cast the Crucio spell.

Suddenly, loud pops rang through the air all around them. Cries of "STUPEFY!" echoed throughout the market. Malfoy ducked his head down to avoid the spells, his face pressing momentarily near her neck and shoulder. He recoiled quickly, eyes wide. Hermione was still unable to think. Draco Malfoy? Their eyes met for a brief moment before one of the red jets of light struck him in the back, and he collapsed sideways off of her.


	7. Chapter 7: When it rains

**Chapter Seven: When it rains...**

Draco opened his eyes painfully. Sound was muffled and warped. Where was he? He blinked slowly, trying to clear his vision. Eventually, shapes came into focus. He was in a bed. Why was he in bed? Raised voices pounded into his skull. Wincing, pushing himself upright, he turned his head.

Someone was sitting in the chair at the side of his bed. Black hair. Green eyes. He knew that combination anywhere. "Po'errr… waz' wwwron' wifff emee?" Draco managed to slur, rubbing his face with his hand.

The voice still seemed muffled, but it was closer to him and easier to distinguish than the shouting at the door. "You got hit with about six stunning spells… surprised you're already awake…."

He saw a familiar looking potion next to his bed, and tried to reach for it. The movement caused his vision to spin. "Pepperrr… uuup… potionnn," Draco growled, closing his eyes. Potter pushed the goblet in his hand. He downed it immediately. The fuzziness around him cleared.

"IS THAT A THREAT?" a voice roared at the doorway, "You go get Kingsley Shacklebolt in here with that order, then, because I'm telling you right now I won't have it! I'm not **letting** you take him back to Azkaban." The voice rose dangerously again, "That boy was fighting _with_ us, not _against_ us! Don't you look at me like that. YES I AM QUITE SERIOUS! Go get the Minister of Magic in here if you want him leaving with you. Now, for the **last** time, I've already told you, I WON'T have it! I've had quite enough of this. Go! Get out! OUT!"

Draco blinked confusedly at the doorway. Mrs. Weasley stood there, finger jabbing at the chest of a burly six foot tall Wizard with a scar over his left eye. The man was staring at her as if she had three heads. Her fiery gaze stared down four officials from Azkaban, electric with fury. She was easily a foot or two shorter than any of the Wizards standing there, but they all appeared to shrink under her wrathful gaze. Slowly, they shuffled out of the room without a backwards glance.

Potter smiled amusedly at the sight. "Looks like you've got yourself a friend in the family, now, Malfoy."

Mrs. Weasley whirled around, clutching a hand to her heart with a gasp of relief, "Oh he's awake! Hermione?" She stuck her head out the door, "Hermione, he's awake, go and get the Healer!"

Draco felt like he was in a strange play. Where was his mother? Why was the Weasley mother here, when his own was missing? A terrible thought struck him suddenly.

"Potter, has my family been notified?" he asked quickly.

A nod. "An owl was sent immediately."

Relief washed through his skin. "Where's my mother?"

"She sent an owl saying she was tending to something with your father, and that she'd be here soon," Harry pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to Draco.

"No…" Panic exploded in Draco's chest as he dropped the letter. "That's not her hand writing." Without another thought, he ripped the sheet off of him, standing and turning on the spot to apparate. Potter's hand caught him, and the two soon stumbled on to the outer barrier of the Manor. Draco bolted through the garden, heart pounding in his chest. He could hear Potter calling him, another set of feet pounding on the ground.

_Tell me I'm wrong. Please be wrong. _Draco's mind chanted as his footsteps echoed strangely in the halls of the Manor. _Tell me I'm wrong. Please be wrong. _He bolted straight to the library, glancing to the empty balcony, and then to the two bodies, motionless at the dining room table. _Tell me I'm wrong. Please be wrong. _Lucius was slumped forward on the table, blood covered his robes and the floor. _Tell me I'm wrong. Please be wrong._ Draco saw the back of the chair with Narcissa's motionless arm hung over the side. _Tell me I'm wrong. Please be wrong._

The moment he stepped in the room, a sudden frigid cold penetrated his body to the core. An icy hand grasped his throat, pushing him back against the wall. Dementor. Draco's hand fumbled for his wand.

_They're both dead. You've nothing left to live for, now._ The cruel voice bit at him in his mind. Draco's eyes flickered to Lucius' corpse-like frame, then to Narcissa's deathly pale complexion. The world seemed to darken around him. His wand slid from his fingers to the floor. The Dementor's face approached his.

Something warmed against Draco's chest. A silvery shape burst forward, knocking the Dementor backwards, forcing the hand to release him. Draco collapsed to the floor.

"Uuugh…" Narcissa moaned, tossing her head to the side. Draco's heart leapt in his throat. She wasn't dead yet. His eyes fixed on the silvery shape. It was a Hare? It bounced about, pushing the dementor down into the library. The hare was flickering out of sight. He fumbled for his wand, but then Potter's voice roared and blinding silver stag charged the Dementor out of the house.

Feet pounded up the stairs and froze at the sight. Draco didn't pause. He moved to the fireplace, taking a handful of floo powder from the mantle and throwing it into the fire. "St. Mungo's Crisis Recovery!" Draco bellowed into the flames. Four witches and wizards immediately stepped out of the fireplace. They hurried past him and began casting spells to stabilize Narcissa and Lucius for transport.

Draco kept his eyes on his parents the entire time. His insides felt hollow. How long had they been like this? The entire time he'd been stunned? The amount of blood on the ground… how was Lucius alive... or was he? The thought made Draco dizzy. He stumbled to the table, hands landing flat on the polished wooden surface to catch him. A card sat there, between his hands. For a long moment, he stared at it. Where did that come from and why was it here?

_Malfoy_

Black ink, nothing recognizable about the print. He flipped the card over.

_Blood Traitors will pay. Body, mind and soul._

He clenched his jaw and slammed both fists down on the table with a scream. He'd been right. As a sickening wave of pain shot up his arms, he also realized he'd broken his hands. The stunning spells, a pain in his shoulder, the icy hand of the Dementor on his neck, the sight and smell of his Father's blood, the ache now in his own bones was too much. Draco fell to his knees, unconscious before his head hit the ground.

This time when his eyes opened, it wasn't Potter at his bedside. Two women sat there, speaking quietly to each other, as though trying not to wake him. Draco flexed his fingers experimentally. Pain shot through the digits. He hissed slightly, and saw one of them jump. The other turned her head expectantly, as though she knew it was time for him to waken. "Hello again, Draco Malfoy."

Luna Lovegood? Merlin's beard, why was she here? He rolled his eyes open glaring to see the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor at his bedside. Hermione Granger sat next to Luna, her brown eyes wide in surprise.

"Why are you here, Lovegood?" Draco snarled as he struggled to sit up from the bed.

"Oh, I thought that was obvious," Luna pulled out her wand and pressed it to the charm hidden under his shirt. A silver light flashed again, "I told you I'd recharge it the next time I saw you. Here I am, and there it's done."

"What was that, Luna?" Granger's voice asked, curious brown eyes flickering from Draco's chest back to Luna's face.

"It's a charm that holds a Patronus," Luna replied dreamily, using her wand with one hand to twirl her hair up in a casual bun. "I felt it charge a dementor a little while ago. Said I'd see you soon, Draco Malfoy." She turned her eyes back to Hermione, "He hasn't asked you why you're here, though. Was he expecting you? Were you going to ask him why he took that Crucio curse for you?"

Hermione and Draco both froze. Draco's mouth went dry. He glanced towards Hermione, who had eyes locked on Luna in astonishment. Hermione found her voice first, "Luna… how… how do you know about that?"

"Am I not supposed to know about it?" Luna pondered as though to another person. "Hmm… yes I see how that could be confusing. Well, aren't you going to answer the question, Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione's intelligent dark eyes met cold silver. He sneered slightly, "Me? Take a Crucio curse for Granger?" Draco laughed darkly, "I think you're ready to chuck yourself in the loony bin, Lovegood."

To his immense surprise, Luna laughed brightly at the insult. She made no sense. "Why are you two here?" Draco asked before she could press him for any more answers.

"Harry wanted someone to stay with you." Hermione replied, hesitating slightly before continuing, "There's... still some concern about the Azkaban guards trying to drag you back to prison. We figured, they couldn't take you if some of us took your side."

"Some of us?" Malfoy snarled, "Heroes of the Final Battle, you mean?" He snorted, "As if the word of one of you would make them change their minds about me." Hermione frowned at him. Damn, it felt good to feel angry. He'd been numb more than anything lately- numb, burdened with guilt, afraid, brittle. Anger made him feel better.

Luna frowned suddenly, turning her gaze to Hermione. "Mrs. Weasley is right, you know." Hermione's hair whipped around her face as she turned to stare at Luna. "Hmm… I think it's time for me to meet up with Neville. I'm going to meet his parents for tea today. Yes. Well, bye for now, Hermione, Draco Malfoy." Her long hair tumbled from her bun as she pulled her wand away, tucking it behind her ear again as she walked out the door.

"What did she mean, Mrs. Weasley is right?" Draco questioned the moment the door shut.

"It's nothing," Hermione muttered embarrassedly.

"And meeting Longbottom's parents?" Draco pushed with a hint of irritation in his voice at being denied an answer.

"It's none of your business," Hermione snapped irritably.

"Granger, if you're not going to answer any of my questions, go and call for a Healer, would you?" Malfoy nodded his head to the door, "I want an update about my parents."

"I… I have it…" Hermione squeaked quietly, raising a folder.

"What do you mean, _you _have it?" Malfoy spat, reaching for it. His hand gave another terrible throb and all he managed to do was knock the folder from her hand, papers scattering everywhere. Hermione immediately knelt down to pick all of them up. "Why didn't you just charm them back to the folder?" Draco mused in confusion.

She went slightly red. "Oh… I… I didn't think to do it that way."

_Muggle-borns_… Draco thought exasperatedly in his head. She put the papers back in order. The way her eyes glanced at the papers told him something. "You've already read it, haven't you?"

Hermione's hands paused. She swallowed slightly and gave a small nod.

"You know that's _illegal_, to read someone else's private medical facts?" Draco hissed, enjoying the fact that he could get a rise out of her.

"I…" Hermione closed the folder and pushed it into his lap without another word. He couldn't open it. His fingers were still on fire.

A popping sound filled the air as a miniature healer appeared overtop of the bedside table. It spoke in a clear voice. "You're due for another dose of skele-gro." A potion bottle appeared next to the small healer. "Your Healer will be here shortly. Please take your medication." It disappeared with a small pop.

Hermione picked up the potion and fumbled with the lid. Draco rolled his eyes, painfully picking up his wand, he waved it at the bottle. The lid turned smoothly and landed on the table. A small glass floated over, the skele-gro poured in it and he magicked the cup to his mouth, downing the horrible liquid. He coughed harshly after forcing himself to swallow the foul potion, stunned when a second cup met his hand. Water. He tried to grip the glass but it slipped from his hand painfully. Growling in irritation, he raised his wand again and forced himself to drink the water.

"I'll never understand why Muggle-borns insist on doing everything by hand," he muttered under his breath.

"And I'll never understand why Wizards insist on using magic all the time," Hermione snapped back at him, "Honestly it won't kill you to use your hands once in a while."

"...Granger, have you gone soft in the head?" Malfoy asked in a slightly amused tone. "You _know_ why I'm drinking the damned potion to begin with, don't you?"

She blinked. Her eyes turned back to the bottle. She blinked again. This was strange behavior. A red tinge invaded her cheeks again, "Well, you know what I meant." she snapped at him as she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"How about you open this folder for me so I can read what's going on with my parents?" Draco drawled in a bored tone, although his heart hammered as the words passed his lips, "Unless you're going to give me a textbook summary of it all."

Furiously, she leaned forward, ripping open the folder and spreading the documents out so he could read all of them. Then, she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and legs this time.

He almost wished she had refused.


	8. Chapter 8: Breaking

**Chapter Eight: Breaking**

Hermione watched Draco's face as his eyes took in the documents. He sucked air between his teeth sharply and held his breath. She closed her eyes for a moment, clearly seeing the documents laid out in front of him.

_St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries: Long-Term In-Patient Authorization Form - Crucio/Mental Damage_

_St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries: Long-Term In-Patient Authorization Form - Imperius/Attempted Suicide_

_St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries: Consent to Treatment_

_St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries: Consent for Prolonged Charm-Induced Coma_

Draco exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a moment. Hermione felt a strange ache in her chest. Sympathy? She felt sympathy for Malfoy? Her eyes softened as she remembered what Harry had said when he'd brought Malfoy back to the hospital. The scene at the Manor sounded horrific. Hermione knew she'd be crushed if her parents had ever been in a state like that. His eyes snapped open and he waved his wand, quill appearing in midair. Cringing as he took the quill in his hands, he pressed the tip to the parchment.

"Your hands!" Hermione cried as there was a strange popping sound as he wrote.

"They'll be fine," he growled through clenched teeth. "Nothing can happen for them until these forms are signed, Granger." He struggled to pick up the next form, "I'm not having them sit around like that any longer."

Hermione moved closer, reaching for the next form to bring it closer for him to sign. Malfoy paused only for a moment to glance at her before continuing to sign. A few more strange sounds from his hands, and the forms vanished in a small cloud of purple smoke. The miniature Healer appeared again with a new bottle of potion, "Please refrain from actions causing further injury to your hand. This is a pain-reducer. You will be injected with this once every hour."

"Injected?" Malfoy narrowed his eyes at the small Healer, "What do you mean, injected?"

A small blue arrow formed in midair from the bottle. It shot towards Malfoy's arm and disappeared into his skin. He howled in pain and surprise, slamming his hand over the spot and going slightly pale. "I _hate_ shots…"

"That's a shot?!" Hermione gaped at the small vial. The miniature Healer vanished again.

"Haven't you been to the Healers in the Muggle world, Granger?" Malfoy muttered, trying to gently rub his arm, "You've got to get shots just like us in the Muggle world, don't you?"

"Well, of course," She began, still looking at the small bottle in surprise, "But… Doctors use needles. They pull the medicine out of the vial, and stick it in your arm."

Malfoy looked horrified at the idea, "They shove a bloody _needle_ in to you?" He blanched, "And you let them?"

"That's the way it's done in the Muggle world," Hermione turned her eyes back to him.

The door opened. Ron Weasley stood at the doorway. His face looked as if someone had set off a dung bomb under his nose. He frowned as he glanced around the room, a wooden box under his arm. Draco groaned, rolling his eyes. "What are you doing here, _Weasel_?"

Ron tensed for a moment at the doorway, then seemed to brace himself and walked in, standing on the other side of Draco's bed. He struggled with something for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Look, Malfoy, it's no secret that you're a piece of dragon dung, but-"

"How positively charming of you to come here to throw some insults at my bedside, Weasley," Draco interrupted dryly, leaning back on his pillows. "Shouldn't an Auror have something better to do than play Nurse?"

Narrowed blue eyes glared down at the man in the bed. Ron defiantly pulled up a chair and sat down, holding the box in his lap. His hands tightened on the corners as he shifted his gaze across the bed. "Hermione, don't you have somewhere to be?" he growled through clenched teeth, nodding his head at Malfoy. "That's why Harry asked me to come stand guard over this ferret, isn't it?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment. She blinked. Then jumped to her feet. "Oh, Ron, you're right, I completely forgot! Today has been such a strange day."

She caught Malfoy narrowing his eyes slightly, examining her as she stood. Gathering her purse, she went to the door and Ron continued. "You're a piece of work, Malfoy… but you were there for my Mum, and Hermione in Diagon Alley." Ron inhaled as though the next words pained him, "Thank you."

Hermione froze at the door, pausing to look back. Draco was looking at Ron in a mix of confusion, amusement and bewilderment. Ron had been quite serious. "Purely coincidence," Draco drawled, collecting himself. His silver eyes caught her gaze, "Granger, are you going, or not?"

"She's leaving," Ron said firmly, he opened the box he had in front of him, "And you're gonna play some wizard chess to pass the time."

"Oh joy," Malfoy muttered sarcastically as Hermione pushed out of the door, "When I win, do I get to hit you upside the head with the box?"

"Only if I get to do it when you lose."

A grin crossed her lips as the door closed behind her. She shook her head. Malfoy usually annoyed the hell out of her. Today, for some reason, it seemed tolerable. Maybe it was because of Luna. A gentle warmth pressed against her chest from the charm Hermione wore under her shirt. There had been no mention about a Patronus inside of it when the wide eyed girl had given it to her back then. She'd just said Hermione needed one. She'd felt better with it on, so she'd kept wearing it. Now that made sense… but why had Luna given one to Malfoy, too?

She shook her head free of distractions. Mrs. Weasley had set up an appointment in St. Mungos for Hermione weeks ago. The trip to Diagon Alley was purely a ruse to get Hermione out of the house for this appointment. She'd offered to sit with Hermione during the session, but this was something she wanted to do herself. In truth, she was almost terrified of what they would find.

The diagnostic room was across from the long term ward. A patient began to cross the hall. Her feet froze. Appalled, she stared at the face of Narcissa Malfoy. Her hair was no longer neat and tidy, and her skin was a wrong, sickly pale color. A cluster of four or five diagnostic healers were moving with the floating bed, each trying to take a reading of a different area of the brain. The sound of Draco's bones breaking again as he signed the forms rang in her ears. She shuddered slightly, turning quickly to enter the diagnostic ward.

Hermione sat still in a diagnostic chair. Several witches and wizards whirled around her, wands seeming to trace something in her head she couldn't see. Five minutes later, they thanked her. One of them explained that her results would be reviewed immediately and she'd be meeting with the Diagnostic Healer shortly.

Pretty normal procedure. She'd been through this last summer. Mrs. Weasley had been the one to sort out the appointments for the entire Order then, as well. It would take about five or ten minutes for the Healer to review the results. Then, one of them would enter, show her the scan, explain what was normal or abnormal, and she'd be on her way. In the meantime, she was taken to a small, comfortable room with pale blue walls. Hermione pulled a book from her bag to distract her as she waited: _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms. _Searching for clues to bring back her parents never ended.

Twenty minutes later, the door opened to reveal a short, smiling woman with perfectly straight black hair. "Good afternoon, Ms. Granger, my name is Healer Amy. I had down that Mrs. Weasley would be accompanying you today?"

"I asked her to let me come alone." Hermione replied with a smile, tucking her book away. "I didn't want her to spend all day waiting for me."

The Healer gave a small nod, then clasped her hands in front of her, taking a calm breath before continuing, "...I have some difficult news, Ms. Granger." She continued seriously, warm hazel eyes looking concerned. "Are you certain there is no one you wish to be here with you?"

Hermione felt her breath catch painfully in her throat. She quickly shook her head no.

"Alright," Amy the Healer said quietly, sitting at the table and flicking her wand. Two images appeared on a piece of paper in front of Hermione. "Here," she pointed to the image on the left, "This scan was taken last year, after the final battle. We did a full body and mind scan to make sure there was nothing too surprising. You already knew about some of the minor damage from the Crucio spell." Amy tapped a few red areas in the brain scan. Her fingers moved to the image on the right. "This is the scan we did just now. What we see is a cluster of damaged brain cells, surrounding the old. Normally, improvement should be seen a year out. The fact that this has become worse is cause for concern."

Hermione felt her mouth going dry. She forced herself to remain logical. "Why is this happening?"

Amy folded her hands in front of her, "We don't know. There are a few suspicions, but I can't be sure without further testing."

Hermione felt her heart pound painfully in her throat. "So… what do I do? What are my options?"

"Treatment will be necessary," Amy stated firmly.

"Tell me your suspicions." Her steady voice surprised her.

Amy paused for a long moment before answering. "It is well known that Bellatrix Lestrange's Crucio curse was particularly heinous… That is the only explanation I can think of."

"What will happen if I do nothing?"

"...doing nothing is not an option at this stage, Ms. Granger," Amy's soft voice could have been a shotgun to Hermione's ears. "The fact that these scans show such different pictures tells us that it is necessary to begin treatment as soon as possible."

A panic attack was bubbling in her chest. "Does this mean… it's degenerative?"

"We don't know," Amy said calmly, but Hermione had stopped listening. She knew enough about healing to read between the lines here. Her eyes raked the two images side by side. Degeneration really was the only possible explanation. Nothing else had changed.

"Is it reversible?" Hermione asked quickly, folding her hands together tightly in her lap.

"There is no evidence to believe it is not. We need to schedule more tests." Amy tried to speak soothingly. Hermione's brain was already far beyond this room. Bellatrix continued to haunt her life, even through death. Would she end up like Gilderoy Lockhart? No, no he had obliviated himself with Ron's wand. He hadn't been tortured with the Cruciatis curse.

Did this mean she was going to end up like Neville's parents? Hermione had a vision of herself, in a simple white gown, with Harry and Ron visiting her, while her painfully oblivious to their presence. She remained unaware of the world around her, unable to communicate, lost. How much time did she have left? Her breathing felt shallow. She was on the verge of tears. "What… what am I going to…to lose first?" Hermione whispered painfully, her vision blurring, eyes hot.

Amy waved her wand. A calming draught appeared on the table. The bottle dispensed a large dosage, floating to Hermione, who downed it immediately. A painful bubble in her chest dissipated and her breathing calmed. She put the cup back down on the table.

"We can't fully predict what is going to happen." Amy pressed firmly, "This is a rare condition. We need to focus on what we can do presently, not on what might or might not happen in the future. Please, slow down, Ms. Granger." Amy smiled at her, "You're not going to be losing anything quickly, that much I can assure you. It has taken a year for the damage to progress this far. That tells us it isn't an immediate danger right now. Judging by these scans, we can guess it may impact parts of your memory, and attention. Have you noticed any recent changes in those areas in your daily life?"

Hermione's gut twisted as she recalled several hiccups just today. She nodded silently. "Are there any other changes you've noticed?"

"Night terrors," Hermione said quietly, "From the night Bellatrix tortured me. They've been getting out of hand over the past couple of months. I've kept a log of their frequency and severity."

"I would like to take a look at your logs. Please, continue to track these things." The Healer began to speak while waving her wand over the table. "I suggest beginning a daily out-patient treatment plan, here at the hospital." A folder and several documents, including a daily schedule for the next month appeared on the table. "We will start with a basic regiment of potions to counter the effects we can see, and predict for the short term. Then, you'll begin a treatment plan meant for patients who have suffered physical brain damage caused by magical accidents. Brain scans will be done weekly to track your progress."

"And what happens if that were to fail?"

Hermione saw the Healer hesitate for a moment. "There are several experimental treatment options. We will go into that later if we fail to see improvement within the month."

Though the Healer said if, Hermione felt a ring of "when" in the tone.

"If you wish to proceed with this plan, you'll need to sign our consent to treatment form." Amy's wand produced a more paper, "I'll give you a few moments to read through everything. I'll answer any questions you have when I return." Rising, the small witch let herself out through the door, which clicked softly as it shut behind her.

It might as well have been the slamming of doors to a cell at Azkaban. Hermione sat stone still after the Healer left the room. _Mom… Dad…_ she closed her eyes, two single tears sliding down her cheeks. _I need you..._


	9. Chapter 9: Damaged

**Chapter Nine: Damaged**

_How in the hell is this happening?_ Draco stared down in shock, unable to comprehend anything. _This can't be real… it just __**can't**_ _be real!_

He narrowed his eyes at the cold chess board. _How in the hell is Weasley doing it?_

The first game, nearly twenty minutes, had been a challenge. Draco considered himself somewhat decent at wizard's chess. He thought that this red headed buffoon was supposed to be the dumb one in that trio. Now, he had a sore spot on the side of his head when the red-headed victor had wasted no time making good of their agreement with the box. Its pounding seemed to recede when the pain medication darted at him. A howl of pain escaped him, and Ron laughed until tears rolled down his face.

"Another round, Malfoy?" Ron asked with a shit eating grin, waving his wand at the board so the pieces returned to their places.

Malfoy had never seen such an elegant board. The case itself bore the Weasley family crest. Black velvet lined the inside of that box. The board was enchanted to float level in the air and would move to each player to give them the best vantage point of the game. The squares of the board itself shimmered almost like gemstones. Dark, beautifully polished wood surrounded the edge of the board, and underneath it there were red velvet lined slots for each individual game piece. The pieces themselves were carved with intricate details, and their voices were clear and strong. All of them seemed incredibly knowledgeable about the game, which usually only happened as a board aged over time. When they were struck, they sunk through the board, returning to their velvety home.

"How in the world did you manage to afford a board like this? Surely an Auror's salary isn't enough." Malfoy burst uncontrollably in anger, trying to vent his loss at his opponent. Weasley roared with laughter. Malfoy grit his teeth. Was Granger the _only_ person he could rile up now? First Lovegood, now this idiot, laughing to his face, when he was trying to shut them up.

"Christmas gift from my dear brother," Ron choked out when the laughter had faded. He shot Malfoy a shit eating grin, "Up for another round?"

A Healer walked through the door, then, followed quickly by Harry Potter. "Ron, I need you," Harry said quickly. "Malfoy, you're good. The Healers have assured me that you won't be taken," he gave the same grin as Ron when he saw the game floating between them, "Oh, don't tell me I've missed it, Ron!"

"Didn't you say you needed this idiot for something?" Malfoy spoke through his teeth, glaring at the black haired man. The two laughed at his irritation. The board packed itself and Ron took it, following Harry out quickly, both waving their goodbye.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy. My name is Healer Thomas." He was a tall, dark skinned man with dark brown eyes. The Healer opened a chart and began to speak, "Your hands were a physical injury, so there is no lingering magical residue to examine. I believe you will be healed within the next few hours. We normally keep patients overnight after the use of Skele-gro-"

"No." Draco stated calmly, "I'll be leaving once the healing has been completed."

Thomas nodded curtly, closing the folder. "I'm also the Healer in charge of your parent's care. Would you like a full update of their status and condition?"

Draco felt his breathing stop. The words left his mouth before he could stop them, "No, I want to see them first."

"You can not visit your Father at this time," Thomas stated firmly. He thought for a moment, "You may see your Mother, but she is still unconscious and unresponsive."

"Then I'll see her," Draco pushed the sheets down with his leg, standing and pocketing his wand gingerly. "Where is she now?"

"We've admitted her to the Long-Term Closed Ward." Thomas rattled off directions, "I can meet you there to discuss things, if you'd like."

"No, I'll return here after I see her," Draco stated calmly, following the Healer out the door.

_Who left that note on the table…_ Draco mused as he walked, careful not to shove his hands in his pockets as he normally would. _Blood traitors will pay Body, Mind and Soul… Blood traitors… Pansy said it too. _He furrowed his brow as he turned a corner. _My family's being targeted… how do I know they're safe here?_

A strange buzzing filled his head near the end of the next hallway. He paused in confusion. No corridors of St. Mungos possessed silencing charms unless there was cause for it… and this wasn't a silencing charm. He knew he'd heard it before somewhere. Draco continued around the last bend cautiously.

Granger was crumpled to the floor on her knees, papers scattered about. She silently hiccuped through her tears, trembling hands reaching to gather the papers again. Only the buzzing was audible in the hall. An image of her sprawled on the floor of the Manor shot through his head at this sight. He frowned, retrieving his wand and giving it a few well chosen flicks. All the papers came together in a pile, back to their folder, floating upwards to a small table. Her body rose in the air with what he imagined was a startled squeak, and he placed her in a chair.

Wildly emotional brown eyes whirled to him so quickly, her bushy hair smacked her in the face. She quickly covered her face with both hands, shoulders rising and falling with her now silent sobs.

_It's none of your business_. Draco reminded himself as he approached more cautiously now, eyes flickering between the door he needed to pass, and the distraught, trembling form of Granger. The buzzing left his ears when he got close. A gasping sob caught in her throat. He grit his teeth angrily at himself, sitting in the chair next to her. She tensed, quickly trying to wipe her eyes on the back of her hands. Another somewhat painful flick of his wand, and his personal calming draft appeared with a cup of tea. The scent of spiced warmth wafted towards him. He lazily mixed them together and then sent it to her hands, keeping his magic around the cup to not allow it to spill. Her entire body seemed to be trembling.

"I just had a calming draft," Hermione muttered, hiccuping slightly as she lowered the cup in dismay. "It… it didn't last very long."

"You haven't had mine," Draco responded briskly. "It's a damn sight stronger than anything they'll give you here, I'll tell you that."

For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse the cup and tell him off for breaking hospital rules. However, she put the cup to her lips, closed her eyes and sipped at the tea. He glanced quickly at the folder nearby. The top of one paper had slid out from the folder as it had landed. _Hermione Granger: Treatment Plan._

He frowned, then discreetly flicked his wand so the title vanished inside the folder. Granger was ill? Silver eyes looked back towards her as she sighed slightly at the combination. Her body immediately relaxed following the first sip. Draco felt safe releasing the last of his spell to keep the cup steady as her hands stopped shaking. "This is delicious, Draco. Why is it more effective?"

"Calming draughts are particularly effective when a few ingredients are nearly tripled," his response was even and calm. "Side effects are countered when you dilute the potion with a some hot tea. The first sip calms the body."

Hermione took another sip and her face relaxed further, "Second sip calms the mind." She muttered in appreciation, inhaling the scent of the tea. There was still a good bit of tea left. "Then why the whole cup?"

"Calming potions tend to treat the immediate symptoms only," Draco crossed his arms over his chest, somewhat surprised to be explaining potions to Hermione Granger of all people. "Utterly wasteful. The whole cup will prevent further outbursts for a full day, at least."

"What are the side effects?" she asked suddenly.

Draco huffed irritably, somewhat insulted, looking away from her to glance up and down the hallway. The silenced area was unnerving him slightly. He knew now that strange buzzing had to have been her work. "I just told you, the tea counters them. As if anything I'd make and drink myself would have negative effects, Granger. It'll make you calm. That's it."

"...Thank you, Draco."

His silver eyes returned to her quickly. She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were closed, lips were pressed against the cup, she took a long swallow. Tears still clung to a few of her dark eyelashes. Her reddened cheeks seemed to be calming in color. Silver eyes couldn't stop staring at her lips, as she pulled away slightly, her tongue lightly tracing the tea from the top lip, then sucking the bottom one into her mouth for a moment before taking another sip. Lowering the cup, she inhaled the scent of the tea again and exhaled slowly, lips parted.

A jolt of something he didn't want to name hit him in the stomach. Slapping himself mentally, Draco stood. _What in the name of…. Why am I looking at her like that? Get a grip, Malfoy. _ He needed to go. "Shouldn't this hallway be a little louder than this?"

Her eyes shot open suddenly, "Oh, you're right!" She put the cup down atop the folder, pulling her wand out. With a flick, he could feel the spell vanish. He frowned slightly, "What was that, anyway?"

Hermione said sheepishly, almost guiltily, "It… it's a kind of silencing charm."

He raised an eyebrow. "You look like I just caught you breaking school rules, Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor."

A deep blush invaded her cheeks and she laughed. He smirked. It was certainly better than listening to her cry. The door of the long term ward opened suddenly. "Hermione? Malfoy? What are you two doing here?"

Draco rolled his eyes in irritation. Neville Longbottom stood, hand frozen on the doorknob.

"Hello Neville," Hermione said cheerfully. She reached back to the teacup. Draco quickly looked away so he would not watch her finish the tea.

"Hold that door, would you? My mother's in there, Longbottom." Malfoy drawled calmly.

The color in Neville's face vanished. That reaction surprised him. "That… that was your mother they brought in here, then? Oh… Malfoy… I'm…" the man shook his head sadly. "I'm so sorry…"

"What do you mean?" Draco hissed through clenched teeth, bristling. He pushed past Neville roughly, entering quickly, eyes darting around for Narcissa. She was in a bed in the far corner. He strode quickly across the room. The woman was sitting up in bed, staring straight ahead. "Mother," he spoke quickly, reaching for her hand, holding it gently in his. "They said you wouldn't be awake for hours."

Her blue eyes turned to him, vacant. He gaped at her for a moment, squeezing her hand softly, his mind shutting down. His voice felt like it belonged to someone else. "Mother?" She tilted her head silently at him, then looked away, back to staring straight ahead, unfocused, unaware.

The world felt like it was closing in on him. Draco released her hand and painfully fumbled with the clipboard at her bedside, reading quickly, looking for the important words.

_Narcissa Malfoy - Long Term In-Patient Closed Ward… Victim of Cruciatus curse… Possible long-term damage to Memory, Speech and Motor Control… Possible damage due to Dementor… Further testing required._

He dropped the clipboard, sitting back in his chair and staring at the face of his mother. His hearing felt like cotton were in his ears. Spots of black caught the edges of his vision. Was he breathing? Granger's face suddenly swam in his darkening vision. Something warm pressed to his lips. He blinked in confusion as her hand touched the back of his head, tilting his head back. Warm, spicy liquid filled his mouth. He closed his eyes and swallowed a few times, letting her hand hold his head as she poured the rest of the cup down his throat.


	10. Chapter 10: Hot and Cold

**Chapter 10: Hot and Cold**

Hermione watched as Draco Malfoy lifted his head from her hand, pushing the teacup away. Neville cried out and several occupants of the ward jumped as it shattered on the floor. The silver haired man slumped forward with his elbows on his knees to catch his head in his hands. Hermione's hand fell and reflexively squeezed his shoulder before realizing what she was doing. She bit her lip worriedly as he took a few deep breaths, steadying himself. "What's happened to her?" Malfoy croaked from his folded posture, "Why is she…"

"Didn't the Healer explain before you came in here?" Neville asked with a frown, "They're supposed to tell you-"

Three Healers burst in the room suddenly, rushing to the bed with Narcissa Malfoy. They looked alarmed to see her upright. Hermione stepped to the side to get out of the way, hand still on Draco's shoulder. He jerked upright, hands moving to lay flat on his thighs, eyes glittering furiously.

"Mr. Malfoy," Healer Thomas spoke in a rush, warm eyes looking sincerely apologetic, "Your mother shouldn't be conscious. I am terribly sorry for the shock this must have been." He turned and scanned her with his wand, reading results quickly. His eyes widened in surprise, looking back to Draco. "She's awake… because you're close to her…"

Hermione watched Draco's hands close to fists. "That must be a family blessing," Thomas muttered under his breath, examining Narcissa's eyes, "Very rare. She recognizes you."

"She doesn't," Draco spoke coldly.

"But she does," Thomas replied, turning to face him, "She wouldn't be awake if she didn't."

"She doesn't recognize me," Draco spat, anger coloring his voice. Hermione felt the breath go out of her with his next sentence. "Her eyes looked right through me."

_Wendell and Monica Wilkins smiled at each other as they passed Hermione on the street. Her hands shook in her pockets when she realized she was little more than a ghost to them._

Hermione blinked. Malfoy was standing now, yelling at the Healers to explain what was going on as he gestured to his mother. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down, and lower your voice in this room," a different Healer admonished firmly. She was helping Narcissa to lay back down in bed. "None of these patients are to be disturbed."

The silver haired man seemed to inflate before them. Draco was about to be very rude, she recognized that posture from behind. She quickly took his arm in both hands, pulling him back into his chair. He fell into it, startled and unprepared for the touch. Without pause, Hermione spoke, "Healers, Neville, give us a moment, please?"

Neville gave her a concerned look. Hermione saw Luna peek her head out from the curtain across the room, and Neville's parents barely visible beyond them. However, her gentle request received immediate compliance. One of the Healers flicked the curtains closed around Narcissa's bed where she lay, contently staring at the ceiling.

Hermione silently cast Muffliato as Draco ripped his arm from her hands, taking several steps away from her. "What are you playing at, Granger?" He spat icily at her, "Hand feeding me my own calming draft?" He mimicked her voice, "Give us a moment?" His tense body looked like a snake ready to strike. Hermione watched him pace the length of the curtain.

"Those Healers have a job to do," she snapped at him, irritated at his spot on mimicry, "They just want to help, and you were about to be an ass about it. This is the Long-term ward, and you don't want to make things more difficult."

"_More_ difficult?" Draco snarled, both his hands dragging through his hair as he tried to contain himself. He closed his eyes. She saw him trying to remain cold, trying to retain the fury, the anger. His posture changed when the ice broke. He held the chair he had been sitting in with both hands. "She doesn't recognize me," he growled, "She doesn't… She isn't…" He half screamed, banging the chair on the ground and dragging his hands through his hair again, trying to regain control. He lost as he bellowed suddenly, "Granger, how in the bloody hell could this get MORE difficult?"

She crossed both arms over her chest, glaring at him steadily across Narcissa's bed. "You could be acting like a brat in front of the Healers and make them less willing to communicate with you. You could get into a physical confrontation with one of them, and be banned from the premises all together." Hermione replied firmly. "She's alive, and she's here. They are going to work hard to try to keep her comfortable, and assess the damage. Losing your head now isn't going to help this situation get better."

The words sounded somewhat hypocritical to herself, considering the meltdown that he'd just witnessed outside the Long-term Ward. "What do you know about it?" Draco hissed angrily, throwing himself into the chair. "Your parents are safe and sound in the Muggle world."

Something snapped. The longing for her own mother and father ached painfully today. Sorrow and fear about the new diagnosis evaporated. An intoxicating fury overtook. His words had broken something inside of her. Hermione stalked over to his chair furiously, raising her hand and hitting him, hard across the face. His head turned with the blow, silver eyes widening in shock.

Hermione took both hands and gathered the front of his robes, pulling him to sit straight up in the chair. "You listen here, Draco Malfoy," she hissed furiously, unable to stop the words. "You're not the only one grieving your parents." It felt like a dam of bottled fury within her chest had broken open. Her hands gave him a hard shake, "My own parents haven't recognized me for the past two years, one day, and seventeen hours. Don't you **dare** assume you understand a thing about me and mine!"

"Were they tortured, Granger?" Malfoy asked hollowly, recovering his sneering expression, refusing to back down. "Did someone put them under the Cruciatus curse and wrench their brain to nothing?"

"No," Hermione yelled, fingernails digging into her palms, "It was me." She felt a strange pounding in her ears. "I obliviated them myself!"

Draco's coldness, his cruelness, evaporated. His face went strangely blank at her admission. He stood, looking down at her with that expressionless face. Her hands fell to her sides. The blood pounding throughout her body made her feel electrified. She wanted to hurt him, hit him again. Her hands balled into fists. One hit him in the shoulder. He was forced a step back, stumbling and knocking over the chair. She continued blindly hitting where she could, until his back hit the wall, then she stepped forward and pounded her fists against his chest. Control felt far away as a furious wail tore from her lips, uncontrollable and undeniable. Draco's arms wrapped around her and held her tightly, pinning her against his chest. She trembled, barely containing tears, barely containing her desire to throttle Malfoy further.

"I think you've found a side-effect I didn't realize," Draco mused aloud, his chest rumbled against her arms, "Rage… I'll have to change the calming draft, after all."

"Rage?" she seethed, glaring up at him. She couldn't see his face now. He seemed to be standing with his eyes closed, almost in a meditation. "A side-effect? How didn't you notice it until now?"

"Because, unlike you, I'm always angry," Draco responded simply, "...I didn't realize it was anything more than usual until now. Try to take a few deep breaths, and it'll start to fade."

"Let me go," Hermione hissed, struggling against him, feeling Luna's strange charm necklace digging into the skin of her forearms under his shirt, "I said, let me go!"

"Not a chance," Draco replied coolly, solidifying his grip as she struggled uselessly. "You'll try to hex me next, and I'm not planning on an overnight stay."

Her ears were still pounding strangely. She hissed through her teeth, "How did you know I'd hex you?"

"It's what I wanted to do before you stopped me," Draco responded simply, unmoving. "Give it a few more minutes, Granger. You're going to be tripping over yourself to apologize for this mess." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "For what it's worth… you made the right choice. I regret what you had to do to save them."

The rage melted. Hermione felt the tears slide down her face. She bowed her head. Why did she have to keep crying in front of him? Why did he have to keep seeing her fall apart? Why did she say all that to him, of all the witches and wizards in the world? Her hands rested flat against his chest, and she pressed her eyes to the back of her hands. She didn't want to break here, not like this, not with him.

"There you go. See?" Draco muttered, hands falling to his sides to release her.

Hermione didn't let go, nor did she step away. She should've. That would have been appropriate. She couldn't. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm herself.

"Weren't you the one that just said losing your head now isn't going to help this situation get better?" Draco asked, attempting a jeering tone. She felt her eyes growing hot and tried, yet failed, to take a steadying breath. It sounded more like a sob than a gasp. Any moment now, she expected him to push her away, tell her to go, that he didn't want a filthy little mudblood like her staining his skin with her tears.

That never came. Instead, his body seemed to soften. One arm hesitatingly wrapped around her waist, resting on the small of her back. A hand gently pressed against the top of her head and stroked her hair.

"I don't like it when you cry," Draco spoke quietly.

She laughed shakily against his chest. "You didn't seem to mind much when you cursed my teeth, Malfoy."

"I was aiming for one of your side-kicks, if you remember rightly," He chuckled at the memory. She felt him spring a few curls in her hair. "You have to admit, looking back, it was fairly amusing." He smirked. She didn't need to see his face to know, "I'm rather proud of that one, Granger. And you had my little spell to thank for the fact that you finally fixed those oversized biters."

"You're such an arrogant git," she half laughed, half sobed.

They fell silent for a few long moments. Hermione continued to try to steady her breathing. Malfoy's hand in her hair felt good. Her shoulders relaxed. His hand was warm and relaxed against the small of her back. She slowly unclenched her hands, palms flat to his chest again. His heartbeat pressed against her fingertips.

She exhaled slowly, "Are you ready to see the Healer?"

"No," he responded calmly, heartbeat not changing as he sprung one last curl. He sighed heavily, releasing her hair, withdrawing his hand from her back, and taking both hands to hers against his chest. "But I'll have to see them anyway."

"...Do you want to be alone?"

Draco gave her a strange, masked look, squeezing her hands slightly. "You might as well stay." He smirked, "Maybe you'll keep me from doing something stupid."


	11. Chapter 11: The Secret Room

Chapter 11: The Secret Room

Draco stood in his potion's laboratory, double checking his figures. He cursed softly under his breath, rubbing his temple with one hand as he bent over his notebook. This would be the thirty first attempt to fix the calming draft. Trials one through thirty had not shown much improvement with the sense of rage. It was difficult for him to judge it accurately, considering the low simmering anger he seemed unable to release these days.

Pushing the thoughts away, he began to triple check the weight, quantity and potency for the next trial. Calculations always took him forever, and he often made foolish mistakes. Brewing potions was as easy as breathing. He wanted to get this right. The calming draft was going to be necessary over the next few months, he knew it. Recalibrating the concoction made him feel like he could regain some sense of control in his life.

It was a false thought, but he appreciated being able to do something rather than sit around and wait.

Someone had tortured his mother badly, the damage had so been deep, that it had harmed her magical core. Her zombie-like air would remain unless they could figure out how the Cruciatus curse had dug so deep. Normally, that result occurred in long, drawn out torture over many days, weeks or months. Mere hours had passed, yet the damage was severe. It was unnerving. They needed to run many more tests. For the past month, he had visited every single day to sit by her bed and follow up with the Healers. In a few more hours, he would return to St. Mungos to discuss things with the Healers once more. Further testing continued to confuse the Healers, bringing only more questions instead of answers.

Draco gave the numbers one final glance before deciding to eliminate one ingredient for this trial. He began to add the ingredients slowly as his mind wandered to Lucius.

His father had been put under the Imperius curse, and forced to slit his own throat. His wand had not been found on him, and Draco had been unable to locate it back at the Manor. A medically induced coma halted his condition, and they were working tirelessly to refill his body with blood replenishing potions, trying to heal the wound. It appeared a cursed blade had done it, for the scar stubbornly refused to close. His condition was critical and they were on a touch and go basis.

Draco gave the potion a final stir, then summoned a portion of it to a vial. He corked it, and walked upstairs to the gardens. It was always safer to try these things outside on the lawn. If it went awry, there was a chance someone would find him eventually.

Granger had stayed with him the entire time the Healer's explained their conditions that first day, a month ago now. After they'd left, he sat there, trying to take it all in when he had felt her hands on his shoulders. He realized that a rage had been bubbling under the surface and relaxed immediately at her touch. She'd squeezed his shoulders gently and Draco's eyes had fluttered closed for a moment.

He summoned a stronger tea, mixing it with his potion. His calculations said he'd need a stronger tea to counter side effects. Without hesitation, he downed it, the strong spices tingling his taste buds. A notepad began to float next to him. It was an observation page to record everything he did and said for the next hour while the experiment was in progress.

At first, everything seemed fine. Hands in his pockets, he took a stroll through the garden. For thirty minutes, there were no abnormal results. About to congratulate himself, he smiled and turned back to the house. Something was off. Draco coughed, then a strange laugh broke from his lips. "Too much Alihotsy," he gasped between a few of these. The floating quill scribbled furiously. "Damn… the Eagle Owl Feather would've countered that. Ugh… I hate delayed reactions."

Draco stumbled inside the house, vision strange. He could see shadows of figures moving through the library- memories of his mother and father taking tea to the balcony, himself as a young child exploring the library, shadows of owls swooping in and out of the room, and the Death Eaters walking through the space.

"Pulling memories instead of releasing them," Draco hissed, tensing as one of them walked right through him. "Timelines jumbled. This is abnormal. No ingredients should've caused this." He saw shadows of past house elves darting around the room. The squat figure of a Death Eater seemed to be shouting something. Suddenly, all of their shadows bolted towards the main hall. He followed them, still chuckling darkly, uncontrollably.

His feet took him to the one chamber he couldn't face. Why was he doing this? The doors pushed open in his memory. He flicked his wand and they burst open.

The scene before him was utter confusion. Shadows began to have clear shape, form and color. It appeared that his mother and father were waltzing around the room. Gentle melody from a soft accordion caught his ears. Eyes were soft and tender as they gazed at each other. This was strange, he'd never seen them dance like that. The two of them wore wedding robes. His eyes widened as he realized what he was watching.

Many voices came in and out, and he saw the room flickering around him oddly. House elves again, servants preparing the room for guests. Shadows of people at a ball- a New Years party. The last party this manor had known, before Voldemort came to power. Echoes of jumbled voices caught his ears. Some were dancing, some were laughing, some were talking in whispers and giggles. There were other instruments playing now, melody jarring with the music already floating in through the air.

There, by the fireplace, he saw Pettigrew. Fenrir Greyback was stalking a circle of prisoners. Draco couldn't hear those voices. He could see his father and mother speaking- see himself standing at the fireplace. He saw Bellatrix walk in the room.

Dancers from the New Years party lined up across the room for a beloved partner dance. Another strange laugh escaped his lips. The music all grew louder. Granger was ripped from the circle of prisoners. Potter and Weasley were screaming, passing him on the dance floor. He could hear them now, pleading for Bellatrix to take one of them instead, screaming her name. Draco felt his vision spin. He couldn't hear this again. "No," he muttered aloud, unable to move, unable to tear his eyes away. "...No. Not this."

He covered his eyes with his hands, "I don't want to see this."

"CRUCIO!"

Draco's head snapped up as Hermione's scream lit up the room. Dancers twirled. Delighted laughter lit up all around him, strings playing a happy tune, and a beautifully romantic accordion all while Bellatrix stood there, torturing Hermione Granger. Her wand flung the girl to the center of the dance floor, nearly in front of his own feet. His heart was about to leap out of his chest. He felt sick. "...L-layers of spatial memories-"

More cries of "CRUCIO" rang out, more unbearable screaming. Her face. Draco hadn't been this close to her face. Pain like he had never known carved every line of her screaming face. That was burned into his brain, now, and he would never unsee it.

"Time and space fragmentation," Draco gasped, sinking to his knees. This needed to stop. What had happened? How had this gone so wrong? He couldn't breathe. His ears began to ache with a familiar pounding, "Rage stronger," he seethed. Wand in the air, Draco stepped over Hermione's writhing figure and began to demolish the memory of Bellatrix, trying to end this. He slashed at her futilely, stone and furniture imploding at his touch.

He was laughing, strange and unnatural- it matched Bellatrix's.

"NO!" Draco's wand emitted powerful green and silver sparks, and the marble floor suddenly rippled from under his feet to the very corners of the room, cracking and splitting. The hallucinations disappeared. He swayed for a moment as the near silence hit him, then collapsed, gasping for air.

"Why… won't it stop…" Draco moaned, clutching his head. The screams were still echoing painfully inside his skull. A whisper of a memory hit him. The sensation of her warm hands squeezing his shoulders. The screams ceased immediately.

His eyes locked to the banner above the mantel. The Malfoy family tree, proudly on display above the fireplace. Bellatrix's name shimmered in bright gold lettering. Rage swept through him as he'd never remembered. Breathing heavily, he suddenly bellowed at the tree, his wand fixing to Bellatrix and burning a hole through her name before he realized what he was doing. "Experiment failure," he growled to the observation pad, it scribbled the final results before sliding back into hid pocket. "Side effects increased beyond normal."

Lowering his wand hand slowly, his head turned to survey the damage he had caused. This room would have to be gutted and restored. His mother would be furious with that, he was certain. Glaring back at Bellatrix's burn mark, he saw something was glittering behind the banner. Draco narrowed his eyes in confusion. He swished his wand, floating the banner up the wall. A door. His heart leapt in his chest. A door? Approaching the fireplace cautiously, he constructed a crude staircase out of broken stones.

There was no handle on the door, and no knob, no knocker. Frowning slightly, he pressed his hands to the door. For a moment, a red hot sensation tingled from fingertip to toe. Then, it slid to the side. There was a spiral staircase leading down behind the fireplace. Draco stepped on to it, and it began to descend, door sliding shut behind him.

"Lumos."

His spell seemed to do something to this chamber, for suddenly the walls were alight all around him. Blinking in the soft blue light, he tried to get a sense for how far down he was moving.

It seemed an age later that it stopped, and he stepped out into a small, circular chamber. Everything appeared to pulse in the soft blue light. The Malfoy family crest was glittering in silver through a layer of dark black marble on the floor. A large book sat on a stone pedestal in the center of the room.

Footsteps echoed strangely in the chamber as he approached the book. Lights grew steadier with every step.

Draco's fingertips touched the edge of the stand, and his silver eyes glanced down at the book. The air went out of his lungs in a low hiss.

Names of the Head of the Malfoy family went down the left hand side of the page. He quickly flipped through the book to see generations all the way back to the first Malfoy. Next to every name were three words.

Wealth. Health. Power.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. Each line, one of the three words was bold and glowing the same blue of the room. Most of the lines had Wealth or Power.

"I have to choose…" Draco muttered, flipping back to the current page.

Lucius Malfoy - Wealth. Health. Power.

Draco's name began to ink itself under his father's name. It shimmered softly as it began to dry in the soft light of the room. The blue light began to pulse again and fade. A sudden jolt in his stomach warned him that a decision needed to be made before the ink dried.

He didn't understand. Wealth had given his father more money than the family needed, as they had already been set for several generations. Would more gold fix his parents? There were no better Healers than those of St. Mungo's.

The light began to dim and pulse slower. Ink was drying at the start of his name. He saw his grandfather had chosen Power. The Malfoy family name had enough power. No amount of power would change what had already happened.

What did health mean? Did that mean he would have health, or his family would? Did it mean they would awake, fully restored? Could he hope for that? Would it be that easy? It couldn't be. The light was about to stop.

"Health," he spoke to the dark room.

Light exploded around him, blinding him. His decision appeared in the book in front of him, and an arched silver doorway suddenly appeared in front of the pedestal.


	12. Chapter 12: Happy Birthday!

Chapter 12: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling as George took Harry's head under his arm and began to ruffle his dark hair. The Burrow was full to bursting with Weasley's and friends. Charlie, Bill and Fleur had all returned home to celebrate with everyone. Ginny had the rest of the summer off, and was looking forward to relaxing in August.

Hermione wasn't. She had managed to make it to St. Mungo's every day without any questioning so far. Ginny had already made it perfectly clear that she planned on catching up on lost time. Hermione had been able to shake her for at least the next few days, but Ginny was sharp. She'd start to figure it out soon.

Hermione bit her lip slightly, lost in thought. Tomorrow, the Healers would perform a through brain scan again to see if the treatment had yielded any results. Her symptoms had improved, but she was unsure if that meant anything had changed.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts. That was tomorrow. Today, she wanted to celebrate her best friend's birthday.

A glass of butter beer floated to her hand. She caught it and raised it with the rest as Mr. Weasley made a toast to Harry's long life and future happiness. She cheered with the rest of them and drank deeply. The sweet warmth hit her from her lips to her toes.

Ginny threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a tight hug. "First time we've all been together again since the battle of Hogwarts," those brown eyes were glowing fiercely. "It is good to see everyone smiling again."

Hermione threw her arm around Ginny's waist, hugging the girl tightly to her side. Unspoken was the longing for Fred to be among the smiling faces.

"Alright now everyone, out to the garden!" Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands, then shooed them towards the door, "Charlie, Bill, Percy, could you please help me get things out from the kitchen? No, Fleur, I insist you go out and try to get comfortable!"

Fleur put a hand to her swollen stomach, smiling and not arguing as Mr. Weasley helped her to her feet. She would have her twins in a couple of months. George would be their Godfather. Bill had joked that he was the only one who could understand the way twins could get into mischief. The whole family took it as a sign that Fred was watching over them.

George and Ron took Harry out to the garden, blindfolded. Their laughter bounced around through the warm summer air. Ginny grinned as she walked Hermione to the door as well. Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, her father Xenophilius, Amos Diggory and his wife, Andromeda Tonks, and Teddy Lupin had joined them for the dinner and celebration.

When they sat at the table, Ron ripped the blindfold from Harry's head. Cheers of surprise lit up the air. The number of guests had been kept a secret from him. Hermione saw Harry's green gaze take in all the people around him and her face hurt from smiling. It had been a long time since so much laughter had filled the Burrow.

She missed her family, but she was so grateful not to be alone.

Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself with the meal. Platters and plates were piled high with delicious smelling food. Hermione sat with Ginny near Minerva- who had insisted they start using her first name after graduation. The two of them were chatting, catching up about how things were going at Hogwarts and the Burrow. Ginny pulled Minerva into a conversation about Quidditch, and her summer training program.

Hermione took another chance to look around. Hagrid and Harry were laughing hysterically. Ron had choked on his drink, and Bill was thumping him in the back. George, Luna and Fleur were talking about the future twins. Charlie, Xenophilius and Mr. Weasley were chuckling at Teddy Lupin, who was attempting to ride Fang. Percy was standing by Mrs. Weasley, who was fussing about, making sure everyone had third and fourth helpings. Andromeda was deep in conversation with the Diggory's, who were smiling. All the commotion filled her heart, when a sad thought suddenly struck her.

Draco was alone. Alone, and likely miserable with grief and worry for his parents. She took another long sip of butter beer. The warmth didn't seem to touch the sadness she felt for Draco.

"You seem to have something on your mind," a crisp voice broke her sudden thought. "What is it?"

Hermione jumped. Professor McGonagall was staring at her, cool and collected, and right, as always.

Ron had perfect timing, thankfully. He stumbled over next to them, still coughing slightly. Harry had an hand under Ron's arm to steady him.

"Hermione, I want a new picture of the three of us for my album." Harry said with a grin, as he took her arm too. "C'mon!"

They walked towards a large tree, lanterns floating in the air all around them. Ron flicked his wand and a camera came zooming out of the house. The boys stood next to her, arms over her shoulders. She held them both as she had held Ginny earlier. Their arms on either side of her made her feel so much younger, safe, and strong. A smile spread out over her face.

A cloud of purple smoke floated in the air as it took their picture.

She clung to the memory as she walked into St. Mungo's the next morning. The wands moved all around her head, and she waited for thirty minutes this time before Healer Amy returned.

One look at the Healer's face told her the truth. She closed her eyes, feeling her stomach sink. Healer Amy sat down, putting both her hands over Hermione's. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger."

Taking several calming breaths helped. Amy summoned three images side by side.

Hermione opened her eyes, trying to focus on the words, drawing her hands away as she moved the images to overlap in front of her.

"...one year, last month, and this month…"

"It's gotten worse," Hermione whispered as her eyes raked over the images.

"It appears to be increasing at an accelerated rate now that we are attempting to treat your condition."

"...Now what?"

"I am giving you a file to review with three experimental treatment options," Amy said calmly. "Once you decide on a course of action, we will proceed. I can talk you through this if you'd like."

"No…" Hermione pushed her hair out of her face, shaking her head no. "I…" She exhaled slowly, "...I need some time to go through this alone." Amy left, and she slowly opened the folder to read through everything.

An hour later, Hermione stood outside of the ward, holding the folder tightly to her chest, back to the wall, staring at the floor. She felt strangely numb.

"Granger?" Hermione looked up slowly, still dazed. Draco Malfoy stood there, a couple of books in a bag across his chest. His cool eyes glanced to the folder in her arms, and then snapped back to hers. She felt him read her face and didn't have the energy to hide her sadness. Neville opened the door, pausing when he saw Hermione standing there. The two men exchanged glances.

Draco offered his arm to her. She took it wordlessly, and he led her to the tea room around the corner. Neville opened the door. A moment later, one of them had placed a cup down in front of her. A wand added a stir of honey and a splash of milk, pushing the cup to her fingertips.

Slowly, she sipped at it, staring at the folder on the table.

"Bad news?" Draco asked quietly. She looked up. He held his cup in both hands, eyes locked to her face.

She nodded wordlessly, tearing her eyes away from his. Draco and Neville both had seen her in and out of St. Mungo's. Neither had been rude enough to ask her what was going on, but they knew what it meant for someone to be in and out of the hospital on a regular basis.

Neville sighed softly. She heard him shift in his chair. "...do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione shook her head no.

The three sat there in the uncomfortable silence. She laughed suddenly at the absurdity of this situation, unable to suppress it, looking up at her fellow Gryffindor. "I never imagined the three of us having tea."

Neville smiled, accentuating the cursed scarring on the side of his face. He nodded at Malfoy. "Well… we've had some time to chat over the past month."

Draco sipped at his tea. "Longbottom's parents come sit with my mother when I read to her. It is unclear if they recognize the words, but they sit to listen every day. It appears our mothers are bonding somehow."

"That's unusual," Hermione said in surprise, her curiosity helping to take her mind off her sadness. "Any idea why?"

"The Healer's are stumped." Neville replied, "They've never seen anything like this behavior."

"I would love to see the that," Hermione honestly appreciated the opportunity for a distraction. "Have you already read to them today?"

Draco shook his head no to say he hadn't. "You've likely read the book already, Granger. It will just bore you."

Her warm brown eyes met his cool silver ones. She wasn't ready to go back to the Burrow, or to re-read the contents of the experimental treatments. "...please?"

That was how she found herself, sitting in a chair across from Narcissa Malfoy, Alice and Frank Longbottom, listening to the calm, steady voice of Draco Malfoy. Neville hadn't been able to stay for the reading today. Sure enough, the three sat on the couch, staring straight ahead at nothing, appearing to listen. The book was one she had nearly memorized, a history book written almost like an adventure novel. The choice was slightly surprising to her.

Hermione appreciated the sound of Draco's voice rising and falling with the words of the book. It drowned out her own internal voice. She turned towards him slightly to get a good look at him.

Dark circles were under his eyes, skin paler than normal. He looked like he hadn't slept properly in a long time. His hair was still long, and the ponytail appeared to be slowly slipping out of his white blonde hair. A strand of hair slipped in front of his face, and he absentmindedly brushed it away before turning the page to continue reading.

Another pang of sadness hit her at the thought of him alone, carrying the weight of his parent's illnesses.

At the end of the chapter, Draco closed the book. A small notepad she hadn't noticed began to scribble next to his elbow. She frowned. It looked like a quick quill, reminding her of Rita Skeeter.

"Observation day thirty two," Draco said quietly. The quill darted over to each adult and began to scribble. As each began to move, it followed them.

"That's brilliant," Hermione muttered softly, watching the quill follow Narcissa as she stood, wandering across the room. "Have you collected enough data to form a theory?"

"Not yet. The Healer's think I'm wasting time." Draco replied quietly. "Granger… I want to ask your help with something."

She turned to see Draco had pulled a notebook from his bag. He held it in both hands on his lap. "I've been trying to adjust the calming draft… but so far, nothing has changed for the better. My last attempt…" his fingers tightened slightly on the notepad, "...went poorly. Would you take a look at my calculations?"

Hermione nodded, taking the notebook from him. She flipped it open, startled as papers flew up in the air around her.

"Observation pages," Draco said calmly, "You can see the results of the experiments."

Her eyes widened as she skimmed the page, her mouth dropped open in a gasp and she put a hand to her mouth as she realized what this meant. "...I thought you said you'd never drink something with side effects."

"I lied," he responded smoothly. A Healer opened the door and beckoned towards him. Draco stood, disappearing as she read the details from his last trial. Many parts were blacked out. It wasn't very helpful. What she could read didn't make sense.

Hermione carefully read through his calculations. Nothing looked wrong. Perhaps a few reckless choices in the ingredients, but nothing that would cause the reactions she saw. She frowned, swirling the last of her tea and downing it in a gulp. She froze.

The tea! What tea had he been using? What ingredients were in the tea? Was it possible that combined with magical ingredients, their dormant magical properties created the reaction? That could explain everything! Maybe there was nothing wrong with his original blend, but a different tea would yield the proper result! She quickly summoned a quill, scratching beneath his calculations.


	13. Chapter 13: Hard Truth

Chapter 13: Hard Truth

Draco felt somewhat anxious, asking for help with the calming draft. He had decided yesterday that he couldn't keep experimenting this way. That last trial had been the most unpleasant so far. His calculations must have been off, and he knew no one better than the brown haired girl. Speaking to the Healer outside the room as her intelligent eyes scanned his notebook was somewhat of a relief.

The Healer didn't bring good news. They had decided to try to delve into Lucius' memories to determine the source of the cursed blade, hoping that the knowledge would assist with his healing. It was a long shot, but they needed his signature to follow through.

Draco read the paper carefully before signing, making sure that this would not cause further harm to his Father. After ten minutes, he was convinced it was a harmless procedure. He signed the form and returned to the ward.

Silver eyes shot open when he saw a second set of notes floating in the air- a second book sitting in Granger's hand, eyes devouring the text.

Anger bubbled in him. He flicked his wand and everything slammed shut in her face. She jumped, startled. "No!" Her fingers clung to the book, and she was pulled up out of where chair, yanked by the book across the carpet with the summoning charm. The book pressed against his chest, and she pressed herself to the book, against him, refusing to let go.

"What do you think you're doing, going through my things?" Draco hissed angrily, trying to pull the book from her fingers.

"Where did you find this?" She whispered, having shame enough to blush at her indecent behavior, although not releasing the book. Her intelligent eyes were sparkling.

"I invited you to examine my calming draft calculations," he growled coldly, "How did you manage to interpret that as permission to search my bag?"

She bit her lip, fingers tightening on the book as he tried to pull it away again. "Please… Draco… I'm sorry…"

Damn it, he hated how that word from her lips pleaded, and succeeded. When had that started? He hated how he calmed when she said his name. Her apology melted his fury like snow.

"You'd better talk fast," he snapped, anger dwindling, but refusing to show it, finally pulling the book up and away, holding it far to his side, above her head, out of reach. Her hands pressed into his shoulders and she stood on tiptoe, reaching for it with one hand. She could barely reach his forearm.

"Come on," she huffed, standing on one foot unsteadily to try to be taller, reaching a bit more clumsily. Her balance failed and she stumbled, grabbing his arm for support. Draco's free arm wrapped around her as he staggered backwards, hitting his head on the wall behind him with an irritating amount of force. He cursed under his breath, surprised when soft hands quickly reached up through his hair. His entire body went rigid.

Hermione Granger's sparkling brown eyes were looking at him in concern as her fingertips pressed against his skull. "Are you alright?"

The woman seemed oblivious to the fact that she was pressed against his chest. He could feel the softness of her body- her own heat through her clothes. One of her hands brushed loose strands of hair from his face, fingertips digging lightly against his skull as she drew her nails through his hair to meet the other pressed against the back of his skull. "Draco, that book could be the answer!" Her sparkling eyes seemed to catch fire, and she began to speak very quickly. "I've never seen a book like this. Complicated magic, for certain, appearing to blend arithmancy, ancient runes, potions, charms- well, from what I read so far, I mean, I only managed to make it through the first four chapters, before-"

"Bloody hell, Granger," he swore, uncomfortably hot now, "Why do you think I'm reading it?"

She laughed suddenly and embraced him, squeezing him tightly, her soft curls pressing against his face, oblivious to the fact that his entire body was uncomfortable with the contact. "Draco, how did you find a book like this? Where did you go? I want to see the library. If this book exists, there must be so much more-"

"Slow down-" Draco began.

Her arms released him, her hands pressed against his shoulders, eyes alight. "I mean, it makes sense, but how extraordinary! No one could come up with theories like this in one lifetime! There are four pens in the book. The author's biography in the beginning of the book was in four different languages. French, German, English, Ancient Runes- I'd need my dictionaries to assist with understanding some of the pieces. I've never seen anything written this way."

"Granger," Draco tried again. Her hands cupped both his cheeks, pulling his face down to meet her eyes. Gryffindor indeed… The passion that erupted from her, merely from a few chapters and scribbled notes, stunned him. Why did she care? Suddenly, he couldn't think or breathe, forced to stare straight at her while words continued to tumble from her lips. His brain felt fuzzy. Her lips moved, but he didn't hear her. He remembered those lips drinking a potion he'd summoned a month ago.

"Your notes make it seem like you've read this a few times already." She reached for the book again with one hand on tiptoe, other hand sliding behind his shoulder to press on the wall for balance. "Please, can I have the book back? The formula makes sense, but I need to translate the chapter on ancient runes to know whether or not-"

"Hermione," he whispered, heart pounding strangely in his throat, arm and book falling to his side.

She froze. Her eyes locked to his again and her breathing caught suddenly with a sharp inhale. That second seemed to stand still.

"Oh…" she whispered, suddenly flushing a deep red. She bit her lip and swallowed hard, looking down at the floor and stepping away from him. His arm at her waist slid along her soft shirt, falling to his side. "I… I'm sorry… I just got… carried away…"

He wanted her.

The thought struck him so clearly, and it terrified him so much, that Draco could do nothing but clench his fist, trying to shut down the sudden desire. He closed his eyes, but that didn't help, because he could still feel her hands in his hair. He exhaled forcefully, eyes snapping open. "Honestly, Granger, getting so worked up over a book that you-"

She'd already turned away from him, seeming to shrink in on herself, walking back to get her bag. A sudden brick of guilt landed in his stomach.

Damn her!

Why did he have to feel like he'd done something wrong, when she was the one that had gone snooping in his things? She sat in the chair, quickly pulling on her jacket, and swinging her bag over her shoulder. Anger welled in him. He stalked after her, throwing his book at his bag, putting a hand on either side of the chair to block her exit.

Shame and embarrassment and something he didn't recognize were plain on her face when she looked at him with surprise. Her head quickly turned away, long brown hair blocking her face from his sight. "Don't go through my things without asking," Draco said coldly, still trying to quell the desire. He'd been stupid to come this close to her again.

She nodded meekly, trying to push his other notebook back in his hands. "You are going to answer my question, Granger. Why do you care? It's not your mother that this could help."

Hermione still refused to look up at him, "The calming draft is fine. It's the tea that caused the reactions. Your original potion would work with no side effects if you used chamomile tea. Combining simple spices with magical ingredients-"

Irritation flared through him. "Don't change the subject." He took her chin in one hand, pressing his thumb a bit harder than he should have, and forced her eyes up to him. "Why do you care? Does this have something to do with why you've been here, every single day this month? What's wrong with you?"

"...I can't-" Hermione closed her eyes as if she were in pain. He released her chin, growling softly in irritation as she bowed her head. She pushed him away as her entire body began to tremble, trying to stand.

"There is no way in hell I'd let you borrow that book until you told me why you care so much," Draco snapped in frustration. He held her arm as she stood, refusing to let her walk away. "I need it to draw up calculations and ingredient lists. Why would I give it to you for no good reason and waste my time? You said so yourself, the translation-"

Her brown eyes locked to his suddenly, watery and fierce and scared. "I'm damaged," Hermione whispered. "...I'm going to end up just like your mother, and Neville's parents… unless..." He saw two tears slide down her face as she closed her eyes. "Unless they can find a way to stop it."

Her hand went to her mouth suddenly, he could see her entire body trembling. "I...I haven't t-told… anyone…" her muffled voice shook. Her breathing came short and fast. She was having a panic attack. Her other hand covered her mouth as well. She backed away, stumbling into the chair behind her.

Draco didn't think. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. She held him, breathing strangely, trying to calm herself, nails biting slightly into his back.

"I hope you're right about that tea, Granger," He pulled his wand out, flicking it to summon the last of his original draft and the chamomile tea, fixing a cup behind her back, "Because if you try to hit me again today, I'm going to put you in a full body bind."

He pulled away and kept the hovering charm around the cup as he led her to the couch by his mother's bed, helping her to sit and hold the tea. Granger's trembling stopped after the first sip. Her breathing returned to normal after the second. She held the cup in her hands, staring down at her fingers, still refusing to look at him.

"...I'll let you borrow that book if you let me see what's in that folder." Draco said quietly. It wasn't fair. He had no business poking his nose in her medical files, and he knew it.

"Why do you care?" she took another sip.

"I don't," he lied, spinning something on the spot. "This will even the scores. You've gone through my parents medical file, and my bag, both times without permission. I never took you for such a snoop."

Her hands held the mug tightly. "...you can't tell anyone."

He nodded. One of her hands held his arm firmly and he met her eyes again. "I mean it, Draco… everything is finally starting to get back to normal for so many people around me. I don't want this to bother any of them."

He frowned deeply at that. She felt like a bother? To her friends? Where had that come from? "Granger, you really must have a screw loose in there." He poked her forehead. "Do you really think Potter or any Weasley or even that oaf Hagrid would want you to bottle this up?" His hand softened and reached down to her cheek before he realized what he was doing. He quickly withdrew his hand, as if burned. "Being alone doesn't make it better. You need to tell them."

"I'm not ready." She said firmly, shaking her head no.

"You won't be." He replied with a shrug, sitting back on the couch so he would stop touching her. She surprised him by resting her head against his shoulder. His fingers began to pull on her curls without his permission. "I won't tell anyone, Granger… but you should." He sighed slightly as he realized he liked the feeling of her curls between his fingers. "They'll just be upset later to know that you tried to keep it all to yourself, for the sake of their happiness."

"Since when have you been so wise?" She muttered sleepily. Draco sighed, taking the cup from her hand. Her head slid to his chest and he wrapped an arm around her.

"Miscalculated again," he said quietly, continuing to pull softly at her curls as she fell asleep. "Side effect is drowsiness."

Draco must've dozed off too. The next thing he knew, a sharp poke in his shoulder made his eyes snap open.

A long haired, fiery red headed woman stood there glowering down at him, hands on her hips. He blinked the sleep from his gaze. The folder was open behind her and she had a paper in her hand. She opened her mouth to speak. Draco quickly put a finger to his lips, glancing down at the woman asleep against his chest. "Put it back. Quickly, before she wakes." He spoke very lowly and quietly. "If she sees you with that-"

The woman quickly returned the paper to the folder, closing it and making it look as though it hadn't been touched. She was intelligent.

"It's three in the morning," Ginny hissed through clenched teeth. "No note, nothing! I told the whole family she was taking a night to camp on her own so they wouldn't worry. And now this?" She pointed to the folder, "And this?" Her hand waved to the two of them. "Why is she asleep on you?"

The time startled him. He must've been more tired than he realized. "Can't be helped."

Hermione shivered slightly. Her hand reached out and pulled his arm back around her, snuggling closer to him. Draco felt a slight flush in his face.

Ginny's eyes widened as she analyzed his face quickly. Damn her brain. He tried to force the blush away.

Hermione stirred, and her eyes opened slowly.


	14. Chapter 14: Friends

**Chapter 14: Friends**

Hermione blinked sleepily, seeing Ginny over her, she thought she was asleep in her own bed at the Burrow.

"Hmm?" She muttered, pulling her pillow closer to her body, then noticed her pillow had a pulse. A rapid heartbeat caught her ear. That didn't make sense. She poked at it with her fingertips. It flinched. She sat straight up, confused. It took a few moments for her to fully register what was going on. Draco Malfoy? Why was he in the Burrow? She looked around, recognizing the sight of the closed long term ward. Then, she remembered.

"Chamomile is too strong," she muttered, rubbing her eye, then yawning and covering her mouth. "Did you double the strength of the tea?"

"...yes?" he admitted, with a tone that asked if that had been the wrong choice.

"Ordinary strength is all you need. The doubled dose," she yawned again, stretching her arms out to the sides, "...is more like a sleeping draft."

"Hermione Jean Granger."

Hermione jumped at the tone of that voice. She quickly turned to face Ginny. Her friend was giving off a strong Mrs. Weasley energy, and she almost expected her to start yelling any second. "There's no yelling in a closed ward, Ginny. You'll upset the patients."

That paused the red head, as her eyes flickered around the room. "You wait 'til we get home," Ginny growled, crossing her arms over her chest, "C'mon, let's go! You'd better explain why in the name of Voldemort's left nipple I had to trace you, track you and find you," she frowned deeply, glaring at Draco disapprovingly, "Curled up all nice and comfy with _Malfoy_ of all people."

A flicker of anger struck her. "I don't see why it matters to you who I'm with, Ginny." Hermione snapped before thinking, fingers tightening on the edge of the sofa under her. Ginny raised an eyebrow and tilted her head at that. Hermione felt a sudden flush of color through her neck and cheeks. "That's- that's not what I meant to say," Hermione muttered. She cleared her throat, turning her head to Draco. "Tell her, that I just fell asleep after-" Hermione met silver eyes that were glittering in amusement. Her voice died as she recalled her body pressed against his intimately as she tried to get a damned _book_ from his hand. "After…" Her mind replayed his face as he whispered her name, she had almost wanted him to lean in and kiss her.

The blush turned so violently deep that she turned away from him, "Damn you, you're no help at all."

"Granger means to say," Draco drawled, clearly enjoying her discomfort, "That she fell asleep after rummaging through my bag without permission, and sexually assaulting me, all to get her hands on one of my books."

"I did not!" Hermione snapped, standing quickly to face him, clenching her fists at her sides. She felt her face growing hotter. Ginny's jaw dropped and then she gave a snort of laughter. Then, she suddenly saw it all from Draco's perspective. "Oh… oh no.." Hermione whispered, bringing one hand to cover her mouth, staring at the wall behind him as she replayed everything in her mind, "...I did…"

"You did?!" Ginny squeaked behind her.

"She did." Draco nodded calmly, sitting up, straightening his shirt. "Don't worry, Granger, I won't be pressing charges."

Ginny snorted with laughter again. "Oh, do tell the full story, Malfoy. I haven't seen her this worked up in months!"

Hermione huffed, glaring at her friend. "You're terrible!" She stomped away from both of them to gather her things. They both chuckled behind her back. Ginny and Draco both, laughing at her expense!

A Healer entered the ward, and stormed towards them. Visiting hours had long been over. How had they managed to fall asleep there, unnoticed and undisturbed? Hermione frowned at the thought. Ginny didn't seem to think about it as she beamed at the fierce woman and approached her quickly to pacify the situation.

Hermione quickly picked up her bag, then saw the book tossed on the floor near Draco's bag, and her medical file sitting on the table. She hesitated for a moment. He stood, picking up the book, placing it on her file, and then held both out to her. She stared at him, confused.

"...I thought you said-"

Without hesitation, he pulled the strap of her bag with one hand. She stepped forward. "You've got others that should hear about this first, Granger." He glanced at Ginny for a quick moment, flipping her bag open. "I think I may have a death sentence over my head if I find out what's going on before a few… particular friends of yours." His eyes seemed to bore into hers as he slid both in her bag, then flipped it closed. "...after you read the book, if you think it could help your condition, then decide if you want to share it with me."

Her fingers tightened on the strap of her bag. A wave of gratitude hit her, but before she could say anything, he turned away to get his things.

"Time to go!" Ginny called cheerfully as the Healer continued to scold her in furious whispers.

Draco held the door for all of them. Their footsteps felt eerie at this god awful hour in the hospital. "See you tomorrow?" she asked as they stepped outside to apparate home. He gave a simple nod, walking down the street a few paces before disappearing with a loud crack.

The rush of the garden flowers struck Hermione as they appeared back in front of the Burrow. Earthy, sweet and fragrant air floated around them. Everything seemed still and quiet. Even Ginny appeared to be trying to control her temper. Hermione wasn't going to be able to sleep… and Ginny wasn't going to be able to be fooled. She sighed, making a decision, then took her friend by the elbow, "...I need to tell you something…"

She walked to the tree where she, Ron and Harry had stood just a few hours ago to take a picture. Strength and safety flooded her again at the thought of that moment. It steadied her. She inhaled deeply to begin, "Ginny…"

"Did you really sexually assault Malfoy?"

"Ginny!" Hermione couldn't help but blush. This time, they laughed together. "...I might've… oh… well… I really think I… did." her voice grew steadily quieter with each word, the final barely a squeak.

"All for a book?" Ginny asked to confirm. Hermione gave a slow nod, a sheepish grin on her face, "A book!" she laughed again, tears in her eyes, "Oh, I wish I'd been there to see it! Hermione, that is so like you! I bet you didn't even realize what you were doing the whole time. I wish I could've seen Malfoy's face! What did you do to him?"

Ginny's ability to call her so clearly was unwelcome. She cleared her throat, "Look, as much as you enjoy what happened-"

"I'd say he must've been the one that enjoyed it," Ginny interrupted with an all too familiar grin on her face.

"Ginny!" Hermione snapped, thumping the file on her legs. "I'm trying to tell you something important!"

"...well, I already read that file, so I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

Hermione froze, mouth suddenly tight, heart in her throat. "W...What do you mean you've already read it?"

"I wanted to know where you were," Ginny said stubbornly, "I found you lying there, with Malfoy, and that file had your name on it, and Mum told me about how you'd gone to St. Mungos, and that you'd been taking lots more trips alone lately, and… and…" she looked guilty suddenly, "...I thought it was just Mind Healer stuff, Hermione… I knew you were lying to me when you brushed me off after Quidditch ended...I just thought if I knew what was going on, I could help. I didn't realize… how serious…" she broke off, looking away, crossing her arms over her chest, "I shouldn't of…" she said lowly, "...I'm sorry."

In a way, this was easier. Relief flooded Hermione's tense body. She relaxed, then put a hand on Ginny's arm. "...I'm not mad. I just didn't want anyone to worry about me, so… I tried to keep it to myself."

"That was stupid," Ginny remarked dryly, putting a hand over Hermione's on her arm. "You're as good as a sister to me, Hermione. You should've told us sooner."

Her hand tightened on Ginny's arm. "I'm not telling everyone, Ginny." Hermione suddenly felt panic welling in her chest again, "You have to keep this a secret!"

Ginny frowned, taking Hermione's hand in both of hers, "Hermione, this isn't the kind of thing that should be a secret. Mum and Dad, Harry and Ron-"

"No, Ginny-"

"It's dangerous for them not to know!" Ginny shook her head no slightly, "It's dangerous for _you_ for them not to know. What happens if the symptoms progress?"

"Please stop-" That thought terrified her. Her breathing was starting to feel like it had before Draco had given her the calming draft. She felt her hands shaking.

"Alright, alright!" Ginny cried in alarm, wrapping an arm suddenly around Hermione's shoulders, "Hermione, just breathe! I'll be quiet, just… just breathe."

Ginny rubbed a hand in soothing circles on her back to calm her down. After a few minutes, she felt steady again. "...I don't really understand how the hell Malfoy fits in to all this," Ginny pondered aloud, "Care to shed some light on that subject? And why you were asleep on him?"

"...Draco had a book-"

"So he's _Draco_ now, is he?" Ginny teased in a sultry tone.

Hermione felt herself flush again. "Do you want to know or not?"

"Oh, I'm all ears for this," Ginny replied with a grin, "Especially knowing _exactly_ how you tried to jump his bones for a book."

Hermione walked her through the day. Healer Amy, the treatment plans, Neville, Draco, the tea, the reading, calculating for Draco's calming draft, the spine of the book she'd seen in his bag, her moment of compulsion to seize it, her indecent behavior trying to get it back, then her sudden admission of illness to Draco, the draft with chamomile tea, and how she fell asleep. Ginny remained attentive the entire time, making Hermione flush anew with a few raised eyebrows and smirks.

Afterwards, they sat there. Ginny glanced at the book in Hermione's bag. She frowned slightly at the spine, "Hermione, what does that even say?"

"Sanitatem," Hermione replied, tracing a finger down the spine of the book. "It's Latin. It means Healing."

Ginny frowned. "How can you see that? It doesn't spell anything."

"It's written in ancient runes," Hermione replied calmly, "When I saw it in his bag… I just… couldn't resist."

"Why'd he give it to you?"

Hermione didn't answer. She still wasn't sure about that herself. He had no reason to give her the book. She'd asked, and he'd seen how badly she wanted it, and he let her borrow it. He didn't even know what was wrong with her. Now that she thought about it, though, her mind wandered back.

Draco had given her the book, because she'd wanted it. Luna had given him a necklace, just like the one she wore. He'd shared his calming draft, more than once now. He'd even asked for her help with calculations, like Ron and Harry had for years at Hogwarts. He and Neville both had sat with her today when they had no reason to do so. Draco read to his mother and Neville's parents. Neville was comfortable around his old enemy now. That silver eyed man had seen her in distress more than any of her friends this month, and hadn't left her to wallow in it alone. Whether he admitted it or not, he'd taken that Crucio curse so she wouldn't have to suffer it.

"I think…" Hermione said slowly, somewhat surprised. "I think that Draco Malfoy and I may be friends."

"Well, that's good," Ginny said with a glint in her eye, "Guess I'll have to come with you to St. Mungos to make sure he's still not an arrogant git."

"Oh, he is," Hermione said with a smirk. The two of them finally went back in the house to try to sleep. _...but I think he's grown on me…._ Hermione admitted to herself quietly.


	15. Chapter 15: Don't ask Questions

**Chapter 15: Don't ask Questions**

Draco didn't sleep. He'd immediately come home and gone straight to his potion lab, more comfortable there than the strange new lab he'd found in the secret room. Everything was forced out of his mind as he brewed a new cauldron of the calming potion. Doing something with his hands let him forget everything for a few hours.

At sunrise, he paced his room, his brain strangely divided. Why had he given Granger that book? He'd already drawn up most of the ingredient list when he hadn't slept the night before. The only thing left now was to triple check the calculations, and finish translating the ancient runes. There might be something more that he needed. He flung himself into an armchair by the fire. It'd felt like the right thing to do, at the moment. Now, he felt anxious and restless. Maybe there was another book? Granger could be right. This one had been sitting in the hidden chamber, almost as if it had been waiting for him. Could there be another? His mind wandered to the bright eyed witch.

It couldn't be as bad as she said. It had been over a year since the final battle. How could Granger be so damaged that she was going to end up like his mother? But what reason would she have to lie?

"Bloody Gryffindors," he spat at the fireplace. Always playing their cards out in the open, or fit to burst with the weight of their secrets. Strategy, timing, none of it made any difference to them. A Slytherin would have hinted, mentioned that they needed it for research, casually bribed him for the book. He could've slipped it to another snake without batting an eye, or raising a hair of his own curiosity. A dull ache in his chest reminded him that there were no Slytherin he could even call a friend now, none that would play that game, and none he would trust with a book from his family's secret room.

Granger's blunt admission had thrown him. He wanted to deny it, scoff the idea away as though she were just so incredibly desperate to read every book in existence, that she'd spun something on the spot. She wasn't that deceitful, though. Worse, he could see what she meant. Although they hadn't spoken much over the past month, he'd seen her at the beginning of July. Subtle signs that something was off. She'd brushed it off as being forgetful, or having too much on her mind… but he'd noticed. The reality of her losing that brilliant mind seemed to settle in with the rest of the guilt in his gut. His Aunt had been the one to do it, he knew. What else could unsettle a mind like hers?

A sudden surge of warmth invaded his chest as he recalled the feeling of Hermione's gentle hands on his face, eyes glittering, lips moving rapidly as a torrent of words washed over him. The sensation was strangled by an intense rush of cold as his mind reeled back to her face, her scream from Bella's Crucio. Memory flickered back to the moment he'd wanted her, desire creeping into his stomach to twist uselessly at his senses.

Draco sat forward in the chair, holding his head in his hands, staring down at the floor. _Did you really think she'd let you touch her? She's a nutcase when it comes to books, and you know it. _His fingers tightened in his hair. _Do you think __anyone_ _would want you? Look at the state of your own house. Look at your arm!_

Slowly, he pushed himself back, unbuttoning his sleeve and pulling it back to stare at the Dark Mark. It had faded greatly with the death of the Dark Lord, but it wasn't gone. He still recalled the surge he'd felt in the mark that day in Diagon Alley. It hadn't happened again, and he'd been unable to figure out anything, with the amount of time he'd been spending in the hospital.

_Granger's got a chance to be happy. That mark means you won't be. Not until you die. _The voice hissed in his skull. _What do you have? What do you think you could possibly do with your life, now that you're a labelled blood traitor, your mother is an empty shell, and your father is still on the brink? No one has even come to ask how they are! No one cares what happens to you, or either of them._

The Malfoy pride that had filled him throughout most of his childhood did not rise to the bait of his own mind. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the voice, but it went on.

_You're nothing now. You treated her like a Mudblood for years. She'll never want you._

Draco's head sank back into his hands. The numbness and anger he had grown accustomed to now had a tinge of… disappointment. The voice was right. He'd have to quell this, or face more pain later, or make a fool of himself. But, how did you stop wanting someone? He'd never asked the question, he'd never been in this position. Did he even have any control over it?

Trudging back to St. Mungo's felt like a chore this time. For hours, he'd sat staring at the fire as his mind wandered aimlessly. The reality of the future was pointless to deny. Even if he could find a way to save his mother, and his father, what then? What next? Would it be better if his mother remained lost in her oblivion? For his father to die? For Draco to simply disappear? Even if their health were restored, what would they do? Society hated the Malfoy name, now. He had no one he could call on, no one that would be there for him or his parents.

He opened the door to the closed ward, startled slightly at the sight he saw. His hand froze on the door. A table had been placed in the back of the room, set for tea. A group of people were hovering near the table. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Hermione Granger. They all turned towards him when he remained frozen in the doorway.

The red headed woman marched over towards him, her eyes flaring. Half of his mind screamed at him to run at that look, but he merely clenched his jaw, eyebrows folding down, glaring at her. She stood in front of him, both hands on her hips, eyeing him up and down. That was uncomfortable. "What?" he spat, unable to control his temper with the night he'd had.

"You look like hell," the red head responded curtly, "What's with the look?"

"This is my face, Weaslette," he snapped, "What's going on? Why is there a miniature reunion of heros happening by my mother's bedside?"

Ginny pursed her lips in irritation, "I don't get why she invited you." She huffed angrily. There were dark circles under her eyes, too. "...It took me all night… and several panic attacks... but I convinced her to open up about it."

Draco felt his mouth go strangely dry. "Why here?"

"She didn't know any other way to get in touch with you, so," Ginny shrugged. "Might want to give the girl a phone number, or something, Malfoy." She grinned suggestively, turning away, long hair swishing behind her.

Slowly, he released the door, walking to the table. Everyone was sitting down. Hermione left a seat to her right for him. Harry and Ron sat at her other side. Ginny sat by Ron, Neville by Ginny, and the seat next to him held Luna Lovegood. This felt strange. Potter gave him a quizzical look as he sat. Ron glowered at him darkly. Neville and Luna on the other hand, seemed to find his presence at the table perfectly normal. Lovegood's eyes peered at his face, then dipped to the charm hidden at chest for a moment, one eyebrow raising slightly before turning her eyes across the table at Ron.

"You're being rude," Luna said dreamily at Ron. "Hermione decided who was going to be here, and that face isn't going to make this any easier."

Ron jumped, face opening wide in astonishment as he stared at Luna. "I didn't say anything," he grumbled, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh?" Luna's eyebrows came together with a small frown. "You sounded very loud to me. I don't appreciate words like that at a table set for tea."

Neville masked a laugh behind a cough, sitting up to wave his wand at the table. The teapot, honey, cream and sugar began to move all at once. Everyone began to speak quietly with their neighbors, taking a few treats from the table to nibble on. Hermione's folder sat in front of her, and she also had dark circles under her eyes. His book was in the bag slung over the back of her chair.

"Did you get through it?" he asked quietly.

"All of the English, most of the French. The German and Ancient runes slowed me down," her eyes turned to his, "And with Ginny pestering me… I didn't really have time to sit down and work quietly."

"Why'd you change your mind?"

Her lips grinned at him, but nervous energy was tearing at her smile in her eyes. "Someone told me that my friends would be upset later to know that I tried to keep it all to myself… Ginny made me realize that was true."

Sitting there, he suddenly realized that, lacking her parents, the people around this table were some of the closest thing to family that Granger had now. And she'd included him. Harry pulled her into a conversation for a moment, leaving him to stare at the side of her head. _Why did you want me here?_

"Don't ask questions when you're not ready to hear the answer, Draco Malfoy," a soft voice next to him made him jump.

"Lovegood, since when have you been able to read minds?" he hissed, turning quickly to the strange witch at his side.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Draco Malfoy, you said it loud and clear."

"In my head, yes," Draco tapped his temple, "Not out loud."

"Really?" Luna's head tilted in mild curiosity. "That's interesting. Maybe I can… but that's not really true, I think. I'm not reading minds…. I'm reading connections." Draco felt a strange flutter in his stomach at that. He wasn't connected to Granger. Luna smiled knowingly at him, "Yes, you are."

"Hermione, I really hate to rush you," Ron said in a tone that betrayed those words, "But, Harry and I are due back at the Ministry in a couple of hours-"

"You are unbelievable!" Ginny hit him in the ribs. Ron coughed, hands to his chest, blocking her arm when she went for him again.

"It's okay, Ginny," Hermione said quickly. "...he's right." Her hands touched the folder and pulled it closer to her as she set down her tea. She nodded at Ginny. Draco could tell Hermione didn't want everyone to have their eyes on her

With one final smack to the back of her brother's head, Ginny began to speak. They had obviously rehearsed this. "Anyway," she sighed, "Last night, Hermione told me that she'd been coming to St. Mungos for a month for a special treatment. There was some minor brain damage following the final battle, that hadn't healed properly. The Healers noticed that some of it seemed to be getting worse recently. They started her off on intensive potions and charms to try and heal the damage." Ginny shook her head, "However, it's not working."

Hermione opened the folder and charmed three images into the air in the middle of the table. Three brain scans. Malfoy glanced the dates. One year ago, one month, two days ago. A sinking feeling grew in his chest when he saw the most recent one showed the least promising picture.

"The damage is slowly, progressively getting worse. Hermione didn't tell anyone because she was afraid. Last night, I found out the truth of it, and convinced her to tell all of you."

Draco saw Hermione's hands trembling. She tightened them on her folder to stop it. Potter put a hand over hers, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back. A strange sense of jealousy snaked its way up the back of Malfoy's neck. He tore his eyes away, back to Ginny, refusing to acknowledge the emotion.

"The Healers gave her three experimental treatment options," Ginny continued. Hermione flicked her wand and the scans pulled back to her folder. "There isn't much that they know about this kind of damage. Theories exist, but…" she shrugged, "There haven't been enough patients to test most of these things out on. The majority of victims that suffer this kind of damage, if they don't wind up dead, end up," she lifted her hands, looking side to side, "Here."

A lingering silence followed that word. Eyes shifted back to Hermione. Her eyes lifted up to Ginny, nodding. She was trembling, her entire body tense as she tried to blink away a few tears. Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. She tried to clear her throat, then shook her head no, beginning to breathe too quickly, looking down. Hermione grit her teeth angrily at herself. Her fingernails dug into her palms as she tried to regain control over her body. Draco summoned the new calming draft and a much weaker chamomile tea. He stirred them together silently and pushed the cup to her.

Ron made a loud sound of protest as Hermione took the cup and downed it in three quick gulps. She put the cup down, body relaxing, taking one last sigh before opening her eyes. "Thank you, Draco."

"_Draco?!"_ Harry and Ron said together. Harry's tone was curious. Ron's was disgusted. "What did he just give you?" Harry questioned at the same time as Ron blurted out, "Why the fuck did you drink that, Hermione?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously at both of them. Immediately, both closed their mouths, faces going strangely blank as their heads pulled away from her slightly. "Draco was kind enough to share a calming draft with me so I could try to tell you all this," she said evenly, "I'd appreciate it if you two would keep it together, since you're the ones that need to rush off after this."

"The hell with that," Ron roared, slamming both hands on the table and making the cups jump. "I'm not leaving you alone with the likes of him, now. What else has he been giving you, Hermione?" He pointed a finger at Malfoy, "Did you forget all the shit he put us through? How-"

Harry put a hand on Ron's wrist and pushed his arm down, turning to look at him seriously. "Malfoy was cleared of all charges, Ron. And," he nodded his head towards Hermione, "He saved Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. So, if Hermione's decided that he belongs at this table, then do everyone else a favor." A smile split his face, almost patient, almost pained. "Shut up and listen."

Ron gave Harry an angry look as he pulled his arm away, crossing it over his chest.

Neville picked up a biscuit, trying to keep his tone calm and casual. "So… what are the treatment options, Hermione?"


	16. Chapter 16: Suicide

**Chapter 16: Suicide**

Hermione felt drained. Explaining everything to her friends hadn't been easy. She'd walked them through the three options now. None of them appealed to her.

_There isn't much to say any of these plans are effective, either…_ she thought sadly. Neville had been very quiet the entire time she'd walked through the plan. When she was finished, she asked him if the Healers had tried any of these methods on his parents. He had hesitated a long moment before slowly nodding his head. None of them had done anything to improve the condition for his mother or father. Draco was also familiar with them, seeing as he had chosen one method for his own mother.

In fact, it was what she had read from Malfoy's strange book caught her attention the most, but there was no data to show that any of the complicated process was effective. She hadn't brought that up in front of everyone. Somehow, it felt rude to pull the book out on the table and divulge its secrets.

Harry and Ron had returned to work an hour ago. Draco was reading to his mother. Luna sat nearby, reading her Quibbler. Neville was tending to the plants throughout the ward, preparing to go home. Hermione was sitting there, eyes closed, head back, enjoying the fact that she could listen to someone else talk instead of her. Ginny had promised that she would help explain everything to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley this afternoon, so that she wouldn't have to deal with it twice in one day. Her friend had hugged her tightly before leaving, and Hermione felt intensely grateful for Ginny's persistence the night before. It was bad news, but it felt less suffocating now.

Draco paused in his reading when a Healer entered the room. "Mr. Malfoy," it was Healer Thomas. "I need to speak with you… privately," he eyed the others in the room with a quick glance. "Would you come with me?"

Puzzled, Draco put a marker in his book and set it down. His green observation pad began to float of its own accord, following the three adults around the room.

Hermione caught his eye as he left the room. He smirked slightly, seeing how relaxed she was. Then, he was gone. Neville was just finishing tending to the plants when he called for Hermione to help him water. She stood, taking a watering can and wandering around the room. Neville had added many different plants to the ward over the past few years. It made everything feel so peaceful.

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on her bed, the observation pad scribbling gently. The quill suddenly went rigid and straight- almost like a cat's tail standing on end. The notebook changed from a deep green to a blood red. It dropped to the floor, and began to tear furiously across the page.

Hermione jumped at the sudden change, the watering can fumbling from her fingertips.

Luna put down her Quibbler slowly. The quill was moving frantically. Hesitatingly, Hermione approached the pad. She reached for it, unsure if the pad would allow her to touch it. The quill nearly tore into her thumb as she snatched it up off the floor, but it let her hold it. Hermione read quickly as the ink flew across the page.

"_No… please don't make me do this…" Lucius' voice cracked, "Kill me… but not this… Please… not this."_

"_I'm not giving you a choice. Imperio!"_

"_No!" Lucius hit his knees, clutching his head in both hands, "No! Don't make me do this!"_

"_Lucius…" Narcissa whispered, her voice thick with tears, "Lucius, it's… it's alright."_

_IT'S NOT ALRIGHT!_

Hermione felt herself going white. What was this? Luna stood slowly, her eyes locked to Narcissa Malfoy. The pad flipped a page over the letters began to scrawl untidily.

_Several more voices cried the Imperius curse. Lucius' scream stopped. He stood, eyes vacant and empty. Narcissa sobbed softly, kneeling on the ground at his feet. She looked into his strange eyes as he lifted his wand._

"_Crucio," Lucius' silken voice whispered._

_MOTHER, NO!_

"Oh God," Hermione put a hand to her mouth. The pad of paper flipped to the next page, continuing to write furiously. Luna took slow steps closer and closer to Narcissa, almost as if she were in a trance.

_Her agonized scream went on and on. She writhed in pain at his feet, body arched in pain, nails digging into the hardwood floor. _

_I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THIS._

"_No, Narcissa!" Lucius Malfoy hit his knees, unable to stop himself from performing the spell, unable to release his wand. He drew a dagger from his hip and tore it across his own throat. FATHER!_

_Ruby red blood began to flood down Lucius' robes. He almost dropped his wand, but instead, he twisted his wrist, and her scream became more terrible._

_LET ME DIE. I CAN'T UNSEE THIS. GET ME OUT OF THIS PENSIEVE! GET ME OUT!_

Hermione felt sick. She looked up to a bewildered Neville staring at both of them from across the room. Luna stood still as a statue in front of Narcissa Malfoy, staring into her eyes, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. "How horrible," Luna rasped, unblinking, unflinching as she saw something none of them could see.

"_Not so fast, Lucius," a hand ripped the dagger from him as he began to choke on his own blood. "You're gonna break her, first."_

_The Crucio continued for one minute longer. Lucius gave a strange twist of his wand. Something snapped in Narcissa's eyes. Her head lolled to the side and her body went limp. _

_Lucius' wand was ripped from his fingertips. Rough hands picked him up and threw him into a chair. The same hands lifted Narcissa, dropping her into a seat without ceremony. "Your son will be along shortly…" the voice felt far away. His vision was blacking out. Was this death?_

_LET ME DIE._

Hermione stared as the three words continued, over and over again, filling the entire page of the notebook. The quill suddenly fell to the floor, and the observation pad changed colors. All of the writing vanished in an instant. It fell from her fingertips to her feet.

Luna suddenly sobbed, wrapping her arms around Narcissa Malfoy, holding her tightly, crying into the woman's shoulder. The witch didn't react at all. She remained doll-like and docile, as though she didn't even feel Luna's tears falling on her shoulder.

Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest. She understood, but she didn't want to understand. It made sense now. Narcissa had been broken by her own husband. That was why the damage had been so deep. Marriage in many wizarding families bound husband and wife straight through to their magical cores. Causing harm like that to a spouse, violating that bond so deeply… Hermione had never heard of such an act. The ill feeling in her stomach came back, but she still couldn't move.

The door opened. Hermione locked eyes with Draco Malfoy. His face was a mask. He didn't appear to see her as he walked towards his book and bag. Luna suddenly went rigid. She whirled around, throwing a protective hand in front of Narcissa, her wand yanked from behind her ear in the same motion.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Luna cried. Her bounding hare flew straight at Draco, and bowled him flat on his back. It sat on his chest and kept him pinned to the floor. His wand clattered out of his hand and rolled towards the door. He didn't move.

"Luna!" Neville and Hermione chorused in shock. Hermione started towards Draco when Luna firmly held her arm and pulled her back with a surprising amount of force. Hermione stumbled back towards the chair Draco had been in, barely managing to catch herself in it instead of toppling on the floor.

"Don't you dare take one step towards him!" Luna barked sharply at Neville. The bite to her voice caught Hermione by surprise. Neville froze at the command. Luna kept her wand out, poised and wary. "He's not safe right now."

"Luna, that's enough!" Hermione cried angrily. She stood again, trying to push past Luna, but her friend held out an arm to block her. Hermione began to shove Luna's arm away when a terrible coldness filled her lungs. A gasp tore from her throat. Luna managed to push her back again. This time, Hermione relented. "What… Luna… what's going on?"

"Draco Malfoy has the seed of a Dementor in his heart," Luna warned to both Neville and Hermione, "He just saw what happened to his parents… and the seed is trying to burst." Her eyes narrowed at Malfoy, "But if it does that… it's going to rip part of his soul away with it… and he's not going to get it back. I don't think my Patronus is enough now… I need your help."

Luna raised her wand again, "Stupefy!" Draco's body went limp as the spell struck him square in the chest. The Hare vanished. Luna started forward quickly, kneeling down and starting to unbutton his shirt. She hissed softly between her teeth. Neville and Hermione slowly approached.

A phoenix sat against his chest, rising and falling gently with his heartbeat. The body of the graceful bird was a shimmering silver, but the wings were solid black. Hermione frowned. She and Neville moved at the same time to pull an identical necklace out from under their own shirts. Both paused to glance at each other. Each phoenix was pure silver.

"This is bad," Luna murmured softly. "Okay… I need you both to summon your Patronus, with your wand pressed to one of the wings." She looked to them both seriously. "It has to be a very strong Patronus, or it isn't going to work. Make sure you pick a powerful thought."

"Luna… this isn't how Dementors are made…" Neville muttered quietly, "They breed… don't they? This... this doesn't make sense."

"There's more than one way to de-gnome the garden," Luna responded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Believe it, or not, I don't quite care." Her face saddened. "I do care that no more souls get ripped apart from that war. I need you to trust me."

Neville was still for a moment, before he pressed his wand to one of the black wings. A soft flash of silver emitted. The wing went from black to silver.

The Patronus charm was the only one Hermione ever truly struggled with. How could she think of something happy now? The sight of Draco on the floor like this, the weight of her diagnosis, her parents, Luna's strange attack. How could she think of anything that would make a strong Patronus?

She wasn't alone.

The thought hit her so clearly, and filled her so deeply, it surprised her. Her eyes moved to Draco's unconscious face. He looked almost peaceful, if not for the shadow she could see under his eyes. She grasped her wand in her fingertips.

He wasn't alone, either.

Hermione pressed her wand to the black wing. A strong burst of light made the entire phoenix charm shimmer a brighter silver.


	17. Chapter 17: The Burrow

**Chapter 17: The Burrow**

Draco didn't want to open his eyes. He could hear voices. A heavy weight pressed against his chest. Opening his eyes would mean he was alive, that he hadn't been able to make it back to the manor to mix a dreamless sleep potion with the draught of living death. A sharp image of his mother's face, contorted in pain, punched him in the stomach. He opened his eyes.

A wooden ceiling met his eyes. He didn't know this place. Hot summer air was broken up by sweet smelling breezes that pushed his hair from his face. There were pictures all over the walls around him. He caught glimpses of many red haired faces.

...he couldn't be here…

Draco sat up slowly, slowly turning his head to look around. Mismatched furniture, frames of all kinds hung on the walls. A blanket slid down to his lap. His shirt was unbuttoned? He quickly did them up again, somewhat disturbed at being disheveled. After buttoning the shirt, he pushed his hair out of his face and tied it at the base of his neck, then straightened his collar and stood, folding the blanket as he did so. The blanket was red and gold. The striking colors fit in this room.

Voices paused for a moment. Three faces suddenly appeared around the corner.

"Ah! You're awake!" Mrs. Weasley bustled over to him, she reached up to take his face in both hands, turning his head from side to side to examine him.

Draco tensed. He wasn't used to being touched in such a familiar way. She paid that no attention. Instead, she frowned, holding him dead center and reading his eyes. "Hmm… right then. Tomato soup… That's a good start, but I think I'll add... Brussel sprouts with chestnuts, Herby chicken, garlic mashed potatoes…. And…" she raised both eyebrows in some surprise, "My, you don't have much of a sweet tooth, do you?" Her sarcastic comment ended with a soft chuckle. "I'll put together a few different things, then. And I know it's not your favorite, but maybe some firewhiskey would sit well with you today." She patted his cheek gently as she pulled away. A notepad flipped out of her pocket, scribbled a note, and flew through the air to the floo powder, coating itself before diving into the fire, "I'll ask George to pick up a fresh bottle before he leaves work."

She bustled away, pushing past the others who were still standing in there, and pulled out her wand. He heard the sudden clinking of pots and pans, knives and fire in the kitchen. Draco didn't move. He gaped after the woman. What kind of magic was this? How could she turn his head twice, stare him down, and know his favorite food was tomato soup?

Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger stood there, looking at him. Ginny seemed perfectly comfortable. She walked in the room, flopped in a chair and put her feet up on the coffee table. Draco winced slightly, pressing a hand against his chest. Why did it hurt? Hermione appeared nervous. She was twisting a strand of hair in her hands, looking at him with some mild concern, attempting to mask it. He rubbed a small circle against his chest, letting his hand fall to his side. "Why am I here?" Draco asked bluntly.

"Oh, you're staying with us for a little while," Ginny said with a smirk.

"Am I?" Draco heard his own voice grow cold. "What makes you think that, Weaslette-"

"Don't call her names," Hermione said very quietly.

The word melted on his tongue. Another bubble of anger flared inside him, but quickly vanished into the void in his chest. "I'm not a house elf," he snapped before the anger died. "Don't give me orders, Granger. I am going home." A hand went into his pocket for his wand. It was missing. Ice hit him from head to toe. Draco dug in his other pocket. He turned quickly, shaking the blanket, ripping the cushions off of the couch.

"You won't find it," Ginny promised.

Draco froze, then slowly turned towards her dangerously. "Give it back," he snarled, eyes narrowing.

"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the kitchen. "Get in here! You've been mucking around in the pantry again and I can't find what I need!"

"Can't you just summon it?" Ginny called back, annoyed.

"Ginerva Molly Weasley!" the voice rose angrily. Ginny immediately stood and darted into the kitchen. The two began to banter at each other from the other room.

Draco had a childish urge to yank her hair as she left. He'd almost had it, when Hermione's hand blocked him, holding his fingers. She slowly let the weight of her arm push his hand down. Her other hand slowly lifted a notepad and quill. Draco's fury vanished, replaced almost with fear. Almost. He closed off his emotions.

"Your notepad…" Hermione began.

He shook his head no violently, "I don't want to hear it, Granger."

She paused, then tightened her fingers on his hand. "Fine," she said softly, "But, don't blame Ginny for keeping your wand from you. I am."

He stared. This must have been a bad dream. "Why?"

Hermione flipped the pad open. Scarred- appearing to be burned through all the pages- where three words, over and over again, all the way down the page. He sucked in a sharp breath. _Let me die. Let me die. Let me die. Let me die. Let me die. Let me die. Let me die. Let me die. _Draco didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, the words escaped his lips without permission. "Why do you care?"

"...because I do," Hermione spoke honestly, brown eyes warm and concerned, her hesitant mask melting away. "I'll give you back your wand when I'm convinced you're not going to try to off yourself."

He could've tried to deny her words, but he had no energy for lying. "The Weasley's can't be pleased with this arrangement."

"Molly Weasley is happy with this arrangement." she retorted calmly, "Therefore, the family will be happy with it. And if they're not," a knowing smile crossed her lips, "Then they'll miss out on a delicious dinner for being a dumbass about it."

Draco heard the soft flutter of wings through the kitchen window. The two voices in the kitchen stopped. The front door opened, and George Weasley glanced in the living room, face curious at the sight of Hermione holding Draco's hand. She didn't let go of his fingers, though. Then, the man's dark brown eyes turned and locked to something in the kitchen. His hand tightened on the doorknob. "...Mom-"

"It's not for us. Draco… come in here please…"

The air had grown heavy. Draco pulled his hand from Hermione's, walking into the kitchen. Ginny was holding the back of a chair tightly in both hands. Ron Weasley sat at the kitchen table, silent, staring at the owl that had landed. George placed a bottle on the table with a dull thunk. Mrs. Weasley was holding a black envelope.

Dread and numbness filled his lungs all at the same time. Silently, he held his hand out for the letter. She slowly handed it to him. Draco broke the seal and the letter fell open in his hand.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_Regretfully, this letter is to inform you that Lucius Malfoy passed away this morning at 11:36 am. The cause of death was due to his inability to heal from a cursed wound-_

Draco stopped reading. He couldn't bare this right now. _I killed him… I let them take that memory from him, and he wanted to die rather than live through it again. I killed him… _The letter fell to the table and he closed his eyes, completely shutting down his emotions. A hand touched his arm gently. He pulled away with a jerk. Someone else tried to lightly touch his back at the same time, he put up both hands, taking a blind step away, "No."

A familiar, soft hand slid into one of his, "Draco-"

His eyes snapped open and he ripped his hand away from hers, "Don't touch me!" His hands sizzled with unrestrained magic, lashing out at her before he could stop it. Hermione cried out, cradling her hand to her chest. He hadn't meant to do that.

Ron stood up so quickly that his chair fell to the floor with a loud clatter, but George was closer. He slammed something down on the table, and stalked over to Draco. In two heartbeats, he found himself in a headlock. His hands clawed at the strong arms that threatened to cut off his windpipe. Voices were screaming and shouting, as he was dragged out of the house. "George, don't!" "It was just an accident!" "Honestly, George, this is going too far!" "Punch him in the eye, Georgie!"

He just wanted to be alone, to bury the anger and the pain and the grief he felt threatening his sanity. What was the _problem_ with this family? Why couldn't they understand the concept of personal space? Draco stumbled away from George as the headlock was released. The long haired, one eared man glared down at Draco with a familiar ferocity. "Aren't you going to tell me not to touch you?" He pushed him in the shoulder. Draco felt his face growing flush with anger. "Wanna try and sizzle my skin, next, Malfoy?" Another shove, harder than the first. "C'mon, then! What are you waiting for?" Two hands pushed him back against a tree.

The anger, pain, fear, grief that he'd been working to suppress boiled over. He couldn't shut it down now. Draco's fists were pummeling the man before he knew what happened. His ears were pounding. Shrieks and cries of protest from the house met his ears, but he couldn't stop.

George tackled him. The two went rolling in the dirt, and George ended up on top, pulling his fist back and slamming it into Malfoy's jaw. Draco grabbed George's throat, throwing him off. "Why are you doing this?" Draco panted as they ripped apart from each other, wiping blood from his lip. "I just want to be left the hell alone!"

A strong set of arms grabbed both of them, restraining them. Draco didn't like the feeling of someone holding him under the arms. Ron Weasley was reluctantly dragging his brother away, when George turned suddenly and slammed his fist into Ron's face. _Good idea._ Draco turned and did the same to the man fool enough to grab him. Harry Potter. The four of them were now tousling in the dirt. A mess of feet, fists, and elbows.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" All four of them were upside down, floating in the air, pulled apart magically. Hermione Granger stormed out towards them, glaring at the blood and bruises. She put her hands on her hips, huffing loudly. Her wand turned to each of them slowly, threateningly with each accented word. "Let's get something straight," she snapped, "You _will_ stop beating the stuffing out of each other, and you _will_ stop acting like children. You four _will_ get along, or else I _will_ make this miserable for every single one of you!"

Draco laughed. He felt like a maniac, bloodly, bruised, hanging upside down, grieving his father. And here was Hermione Granger, lecturing them all, small, fierce and furious. This had to be a dream. George began to laugh as well. Soon, Harry and Ron had joined in. His sides ached. Blood was pounding in his temples. "What are you going to do, Granger?" he sneered through a snicker, "Bunk us together in our get-along shirt?"

That was how Draco found himself sitting uncomfortably on the couch, sharing a strange no armed sweater with George on his left, Harry Potter on his right, and Ron next to his brother George. It was hot, the sweater was itchy, he was still bloody and bruised from their scuffle, but they were forced to stay until Hermione decided they'd had enough of a time out. Draco found being treated like a child didn't help his temper. The four men sat there, brooding.

"...I want to punch you some more," Draco growled, breaking the silence as his temper mounted.

"The feeling is mutual." George assured him, patting his arm mockingly.

Ron's stomach growled loudly. "Don't you two start. I want to eat tonight, because this smells too damn good. Keep your hands to yourself."

The front door opened and Mr. Weasley paused, his eyes scanning each of the faces on his couch, then to the kitchen. He looked back and forth between the two rooms for a moment, then began to laugh. His hand grasped the door tightly as he wiped tears from his eyes, laughing so hard that he bent double. Soon after, Granger came to release them from their "get along" sweater and they were all sitting down at the table for dinner.

Draco's appetite was thin. His grief for his father was still barely contained under the surface. However, he could eat tomato soup any time of day. Mrs. Weasley tried to push a plate full of other things to him, but he couldn't stomach anything more than soup, fresh bread and a small homemade chocolate dessert. He thanked her for the meal. George showed Draco where he'd be sleeping. A room on the first floor, across from where Ginny and Hermione slept. "You're gonna be with your favorite get-along buddy," George said with a smile, opening the door, "Me."

Every room in the Weasley house appeared to burst with life and personality. It was a far cry from the carefully decorated rooms and halls of Malfoy Manor. This room had two beds, more red and gold, and the ceiling had a charm on it much like Hogwarts to show the outside sky. That was unexpected. It was a complicated bit of magic. He was surprised to notice that he actually enjoyed the Burrow, despite having insulted it to Ron's face for years at Hogwarts. It was a home.

The Weasley's had no shortage of clothing to share. Draco lay there, wearing red pajama pants, and a thin white cotton T-shirt. His eyes stared at the ceiling for hours, watching the image of the stars moving overhead, before deciding that he couldn't sleep. Draco stood, walking out to the garden and sitting at the picnic table. He held the death notice in his hand, unable to open it again, unable to read it fully. A thunk of glass next to his elbow made him look back over his shoulder. George Weasley stood there, sitting on his left side, pouring two shots of firewhiskey.

Silently, they both downed it. Draco made a slight face. He hadn't ever really gotten a taste for this. The two sat there in silence as Draco turned the letter over slowly in his hands. "Why'd you pick a fight with me?" he asked quietly.

"You looked like you needed a punching bag," George replied simply, "And I wanted an excuse to punch you in the face." He poured two more shots, "Seemed like a win-win." he pushed a glass to Draco, "Didn't expect Hermione to step in, though. She's learned a little too much from my mother."


	18. Chapter 18: Firewhiskey

**Chapter 18: Firewhiskey**

Hermione felt strange. She moved, almost floating. How long had she been floating? Hours? Days? Time didn't seem to make sense. It was serene, here. No one was around her. Something nibbled at the back of her mind, told her that this wasn't real. It felt real, though. She was blissfully alone, disconnected, and that was alright. The air around her seemed to be made of cloud. Her fingertips stretched over it, sending the cloud swirling in a soft rainbow of color. Brilliant colors bounced all around her. She was stepping on the colors- they were helping her climb into the air.

It was curious, this place. Calm, quiet, peaceful. She could stay here for a while.

"Hermione Granger." a soft voice spoke through the swirling color. "You're going to wake up. In three, two, one."

She blinked. The clouds disappeared. She was standing in the garden at the Burrow. Someone was holding her wrist gently. Her body shifted and she saw Draco Malfoy. George stood just behind him, looking perplexed. Ginny had both hands on her shoulders, but she hadn't felt them until now. The grass tickled her bare feet. She dug her toes into the Earth. "Erm… hello," she said quietly, looking from George to Draco to Ginny, trying to put this together in her head. "Ah… what… am I doing here?"

"Sleepwalking," Ginny replied, gently releasing her shoulders. "...You wouldn't wake up for me."

"Sorry?"

"I tried talking to you too, then Ginny held your shoulders, shook you a little. Nothing." George crossed his arms over his chest. "Then your knight in shining armor here took over, said your name with his countdown, and now you're back."

"Don't call me that," Draco released Hermione to give George a soft punch in the ribs. George smacked him in the back of the head in retaliation. They both glared at each other for a moment before flopping back down at the picnic table.

Flopping. Their posture was strange. Were they drunk?

Hermione stared at them both. Her mouth felt dry. Was this a progression of the damage? Amy hadn't mentioned anything about sleepwalking. "I… have I ever done this?"

Draco was giving her a masked look. She hated that expression. "Nope," Ginny replied brightly, "But I'm sure that it's nothing a little firewhiskey can't cure." A truly mischievous smile crossed her lips as she took the bottle from the table despite a cry of protest from George.

"Oi!" George threw an arm around Draco, pointing to the two of them, "We were still drinking that, Gin!"

"And now Hermione and I are gonna help," Ginny said with a smirk. George frowned, but summoned two more glasses. Ginny poured them.

Hermione walked over when her friend lifted the drink to her. It was strong, and burned her mouth and throat. The burn made her know she was awake. Her mind was racing. That hadn't felt like sleepwalking. Then again, Hermione had never done it until today. Maybe that was how it was supposed to feel? She accepted the second drink of firewhiskey, and the three of them sat there, drinking and listening to the quiet night until her entire body felt warm and tingly.

"Let's take it to the stars," Ginny said abruptly, taking her glass and the bottle in hand.

"Yes!" George smacked his hand on the table as he stood, "We haven't done that…" he frowned as he tried to recall when, then shrugged when he gave up, "In too long!"

Hermione quickly gave Draco a puzzled expression. He didn't seem to have a clue what they were on about, either. "Maybe I'll… just head back to bed-" Ginny linked her elbow with Hermione's, the action telling her that the decision had already been made, and any argument would be shot down.

George put Draco in another headlock, far gentler than when he'd forced him into the yard, and ruffled his hair. The silver haired man gave a cry of protest, pushing at George's elbow to free himself. George laughed, pulling Draco's elbow and throwing his arm over his shoulder. "C'mon, ferret," he taunted, "Maybe if you pluck my nerve, we can get a few more swings in before Granger hauls our asses upside down again."

"I'd rather decline," Draco said coldly, trying to disentangle himself from George's arm.

Ginny released Hermione, shoving the bottle and glass in her hands. Hermione held it all quickly, almost dropping it when she saw what Ginny was doing. Ginny marched to George and Draco, stood between them beaming, and threw her arms around both of their shoulders. That was saying something, considering the height difference. Both men had to stoop, the unexpected pull causing them both to curse and walk forward with her.

Soon, they'd left the Burrow to one of the tall hills just overlooking a village far below. The sky was still dark, and the stars were brilliant. Ginny poured them all another drink and another, and another. Hermione lost count. The stars looked like they were spinning. Ginny danced with her, singing a drinking song and spinning her around, while George sang along, clapping, and Draco sat with a relaxed smile, tapping his thumb in time to the tune.

Ginny and George poured a glass for Fred, and they sprawled out under the stars. The two began to talk to each other as if he were there with them. They both knew exactly how Fred would respond to their chatter, and they took turns pretending to speak in his voice. More than once the two were laughing and crying simultaneously as they played that game.

Hermione stumbled over towards Draco, giggling drunkenly. She reached out a hand to him, and he took it. She pulled him to his feet, dragging him over next to Ginny and George. They didn't make it all the way over. Hermione tripped over her own two feet and as she flopped down on the ground, she refused to let go of his arm, laughing as he fell over her and scrambled to push himself off.

Wide, surprised eyes- the same eyes she'd seen the day he'd taken that Crucio. He had a red tinge in his face- the firewhiskey, she was certain. His eyes didn't spin away like the stars overhead. The mask had fallen. The silver gaze was steady, and intense. A strange, hot sensation blossomed lowly in her stomach at that look in his eyes.

She reached up a hand towards his face, but he held her hand, stopping her. His mask clicked back in place as he stared at her hand. "When I shocked you today… I wasn't in control… I regret it."

That was as good as an apology from Draco Malfoy. Her eyes widened. He slid away from her, sitting up to watch Ginny and George. Hermione tried to do the same and frowned. Sitting up was too hard right now. She took a fistful of the back of his shirt and pulled him down. He cried out in surprise as he tumbled backwards, his head on her stomach. She laughed again, running her fingers through his soft hair.

He froze. Confused? Offended? Angry? She didn't know. Hermione wasn't about to stop, though. She put one hand on his chest to keep him there, and one hand continuing to stroke his hair. His body slowly relaxed. "You're warm," Hermione muttered. Her eyes closed, and she lost track of how long she lay there, putting her fingers through his soft, silken locks. George and Ginny must have drank too much. Their gentle snores reached her ears.

She was floating again. That was nice. More sleepwalking? But she wasn't asleep. Hermione's eyes fluttered open. Solid arms were carrying her. She lifted her hand, pressing it against a thin cotton T-shirt. He was so warm, she didn't want to be put down. The floating sensation was disappearing. Hermione frowned, wrapping her arms around him and refusing to let go.

Draco tensed slightly, caught off guard. He reached his hands up to meet hers and gently pull her away. "Nuh uh," Hermione refastened her grip, pulling him closer.

George and Ginny were stumbling through the doorway, snickering and attempting to control their volume. George put Ginny down on her bed, breathless with laughter, slumping down to his knees.

"You're drunk, Granger." Draco muttered into her ear. She shivered slightly. His voice felt good there. "Lay down and go to sleep."

"I'm cold. You're warm." she explained, it was so simple. Why was he being difficult?

"I'll get you a blanket." he responded, managing to pull one arm away. His warmth was dissipating as he drew back, his hand reaching for a blanket at the end of her bed. Her hand caught his jaw, pulling him back to her face.

She didn't want a blanket. He was warmer than that. "I want you."

Draco went rigid. His eyes went very wide, mask broken. The surprise she expected. The confusion she expected. The desire flickering there caught her off guard. His mask fell back into place as quickly as it had cracked. "I hope you remember that someday, Granger. I want to be around to see what color your face turns." His fingers lightly pulled her hand from his face, then his palm gently pushed her shoulder back on the bed. She curled up on her side in a fuss, irritated that she wasn't getting what she wanted, and she'd been clear! Draco followed her, his lips pressing close to her ear, his voice a low rumble. "...say it again, when you're sober..." The tone made her stomach twist pleasantly. He withdrew, and a soft blanket was laid over her body.

After a few moments, she saw George's body being supported by Draco into the room across from hers. He got George into bed, and pulled the covers up around the man as well. George mimicked Hermione's grabbing of Draco's face and whispered, "I want you." Draco lightly smacked George on his chest. The man cackled as he laid down, Draco shoving a pillow over his face. She frowned. George couldn't have him as her blanket, too. She stood unsteadily. Ginny called her name, but Hermione took her wand and stomped into the room across the hall.

George looked at her, puzzled, as she stumbled in their room. Draco was just laying in bed, he hadn't heard her entrance. She frowned at them both, then pointed her wand at Draco, binding his legs. Vision swimming, she stumbled to the bed, pushing him down. She heard laughter behind her. A firm hand held her shoulder. She pointed her wand over her shoulder threateningly, glancing back. Ginny was in the doorway, but Hermione couldn't make out her face. George ducked as she tried to bind him, too. Glaring, she shoved Draco over slightly to make room, curled up on her side next to him and sighed, content now that she had her blanket back.

Draco's voice rumbled in his chest. "Get her off." She put a hand on his chest. His heartbeat drummed, hard and fast against her palm.

"Are you kidding me? I'm not getting in the way of a drunk witch, her wand and her victim," George's voice felt strange in her ears.

Ginny's voice squeaked, "Gods, I can't wait until morning!"

"You're both useless," Draco hissed. Hermione didn't hear much more. She snuggled closer, sleep finally taking her away.


	19. Chapter 19: Family

**Chapter 19: Family**

This was a strange torture. Draco had wanted to be alone, take the night to steel himself enough to read the rest of the death notice, box up his emotions, and face today properly desensitized.

Things were not going according to plan.

Hermione gave a soft murmur in her sleep, throwing a leg over his body. How in the hell did she manage to cast a leg locker curse that stayed when she was asleep, when she was absolutely smashed?

He had expected that jinx to break once her breathing eased. When it didn't, he'd swallowed his pride enough to ask George to help. The man had rolled away so his back was towards them and given a loud, exaggerated snore. Draco grit his teeth in anger. George would get a beating for that later. What was he supposed to do when she woke up? The damned witch likely wouldn't remember anything, and she'd start cursing him left and right, thinking he had taken advantage of her when she was drunk. He hadn't been able to sleep at all. This was more physical contact than he'd had in years, and his entire body felt somewhat electrified everywhere she pressed against him.

He tried to count the stars in the enchanted ceiling to distract himself. Eyes searched for familiar constellations, planets, galaxies, and several shooting stars danced overhead. It was a beautiful night.

She shifted again, shivering and drawing closer to him. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when a soft hand slid under his shirt, bare palm pressing against his bare chest. All the air rushed out of his lungs and his heart fluttered against her fingertips.

He lifted a hand to her elbow to pull her away. A cool prod in his neck made him quickly recoil. She held her wand in the hand that was tucked close to her chest, and the tip of it was now against his neck, throbbing with his rapid pulse. Her hand slid slowly down his chest, down his stomach.

He thought she'd stop there.

A sense of disbelief, panic and excitement shot through his body when that hand went down as far as she could reach, over his locked groin and thigh, then moved back up his body, slow and relaxed, as if she were stroking the body of an animal. His eyes rolled back in his head and he shivered. Draco felt blood rush low in his body, but the leg locker curse meant he was paralyzed from the waist down. The suppression of his erection was strangely arousing.

Draco felt the wand digging harder into his neck as his breathing and pulse grew faster. He swallowed hard, trying to think how to make her stop. His brain felt like it wasn't working. _I'm being groped by Hermione Granger. _His eyelids fluttered closed in pleasure when she did it again. He couldn't think. His free hand fisted in the sheets of the bed, trying to focus, failing as her hand moved against him again, and again, and again. Each time he'd started to get a pinprick of a train of thought, her touch destroyed it. His heart felt like it was going to break out of his ribcage. _She's drunk and doesn't know what she's doing…_

"Granger," his voice barely sounded. He swallowed hard, trying to clear the fog of arousal from his head.

"Mhmm," she muttered sleepily, pressure increasing slightly. "Good Crookshanks."

Draco grit his teeth, head rolling back against the pillow in pleasure and exasperation. She thought he was her _cat?! _He wanted to scream. This wasn't fair, and if she kept it up, then soon he was going to embarrass himself. Body trembling slightly as the arousal coursed through him, he managed to growl, "Stop."

Her hand pressed harder against his chest and body. He saw stars this time when she touched him, and part of him almost didn't want to stop her now. _You know this is wrong, Draco. She's not trying to do this… __**damn**_ _her hands._ He sucked in a tight breath at her touch. _Curse me if you have to, Granger._

Draco took her hand in his when it slid from his shirt, then laced his fingers through hers and held it firmly to his chest. Her arm struggled for a moment before relaxing and staying still.

It took him several minutes of deep breathing to calm his body. The trembling only stopped when her wand dug into his collarbone. About an hour after sunrise, George and Ginny snuck in to watch the show. He was eternally relieved that he'd managed to stop her. Hermione only woke when Ginny and George began cackling loudly. Draco had never seen another person, not even a Weasley, manage a face that red. She undid the jinx and fled from the room without looking at him, slamming the door as she went.

Draco now stood in the shower, cold water cascading down his back. The shower wasn't helping. One hand was pressed to the wall, the other pumped quickly on his erection. Unable to box the arousal, unable to forget the feeling of her hand stroking his hair, that soft body pressed against his, her violation of his body, her drunken whisper of _I want you_, he gave in to the desire here. He shuddered when he came hard, grateful that he hadn't made a mess of himself the moment she'd removed the jinx. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been aroused enough to orgasm. The sensation left him breathless for a few minutes.

Draco washed, then made the water warmer, and let it beat down on his shoulder blades, trying to relax. His body was tight after a long night in a body bind. His head felt wrong after drinking that much Firewhiskey. Eyes pounded, chest still ached for some unknown reason, and legs still recovering sensation from their long night of cursed stillness.

After showering, he dried and tied the towel to his waist. He took a comb through his hair absentmindedly, thoughts wandering back to her lips and hands. Teeth grit together, he forced the thoughts into a box. He angrily swiped his hand across the fogged mirror to distract himself. Sound ripped from his throat before he could stop it. Feet stumbled away from the mirror, heart hammering in his chest in dread. Hand fumbled with the doorknob behind his back, twisting it open. Legs wanted to run. His father's face stared back at him. His foot caught the edge of the staircase and he nearly fell backwards.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" George caught him clumsily, looking up at the mirror. First, his eyes locked on the Phoenix at the center of his chest. Then, his eyes met Draco's in the mirror. Realization dawned on the red headed man's face. He grew suddenly very still and pale, his expression aged ten years. Without a word, he pulled Draco in to the closest room. Mrs. Weasley sat with her knitting paused, startled by the commotion.

"Haircut," George muttered, pushing Draco into a chair.

Draco couldn't move. He was shaking, he realized. To stop it, he locked every muscle in his body. The long locks of hair began to fall away from him. Was he breathing? He checked in with his body. His inhales were shaking, exhales were too fast. He focused on steadying that. Exhaustion swept through him suddenly. It was so overpowering, he didn't know if he could remain sitting. He fell forward, barely managing to catch himself before falling to the floor. Sleep. His body screamed at him for darkness. "Dreamless sleep," he muttered softly.

"You really should try to eat something first," Mrs. Weasley began.

"Mum… stop. I'll get it," George promised quietly.

Draco didn't dare look in the mirror again when he went back to the bathroom to gather his clothes. He didn't remember how he got back downstairs. The next thing he knew, George was pushing a potion in his hands. His head hit the pillow without another thought.

Opening his eyes felt easier. He sat up, realizing he still wore nothing but a towel at his waist. He would need to convince Granger to give him his wand back so that he could have his own clothes. It might be easier to guilt her into that at the moment.

With a start, he noticed a small pile of clothes at the end of his bed. Black pants. Black shirt. Black socks. Mourning clothes. A small Malfoy family crest was embroidered on a pocket cloth for the shirt. He dressed, then ran a hand through his shorter hair. Why had George asked for a haircut? It did make Draco feel better, but he didn't understand why. Small wisps fell in front of his eyes. His hands hurt. Looking down, he saw that his fingernails had dug into his palms, drawing blood. Curious.

There was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. Was he hungry? Stomach felt disconnected right now. He walked out to see Mrs. Weasley busying herself around the kitchen. Her eyes caught his and she smiled a very motherly smile.

Guilt twisted in his gut when he remembered he hadn't read to his mother today.

"Feeling better?" she asked brightly. Silently, he nodded. The doorbell rang. Her hands clasped together at the sound. "Oh! Could you be a dear and get that for me? I need to finish getting one more thing on the stove."

Obediently, he moved to the door. Mind went completely blank and all his mental guards went up at the sight of the woman on those stairs. At first, he almost reached for his non-existent wand to curse her. Wildly, his fear thought it was Bellatrix Lestrange. His mind knew that wasn't possible. There was no denying those eyes, or that face, or the way this woman held herself. Aunt Bella had it. His mother, Narcissa had it. There was only one person this could be.

"...Aunt Andromeda," he couldn't read her eyes.

"Draco," she nodded her head at him.

A tiny little human suddenly clung to Draco's leg. His eyes shot down, surprised at the sensation of little hands pulling on him. Strange, brilliant blue hair, the color of a flame, shot up from the boy's head. Draco didn't have much experience with children. "Teddy!" Mrs. Weasley cried happily, "Come, give us a hug!"

Millions of questions raced through his mind when he looked back at this woman, this family that he didn't know. She wore black and she wore the Malfoy family crest on her dress. That surprised him. "Walk with me," Andromeda turned her back to him and strolled towards the garden. His hand grasped the doorknob tightly before releasing it and following her outside.

She strode to a large tree, far at the back of the garden, and sat on a bench in the shade. That walk was so familiar. The way she held her chin, folded her hands, motioned for him to sit beside her. His mother did everything the exact same way. His questions were barely contained as he sat next to her.

"Your father taught you how to guard yourself well," Andromeda said quietly, eyes examining his face. Her voice had a flavor of Bella's accent. "I don't think I've ever met a Wizard with walls as thick as yours." Uncertain how to respond, he remained silent. Andromeda pushed against his mental shields experimentally, politely. Nothing moved. "Such a young man to have had the need to master such a difficult branch of magic."

"Why are you here?" he asked quietly.

"...I believe," she said softly, pulling something from her bag, "That my dear sister, Narcissa, would not have you carry the weight of this burden alone."

Draco stared at the box. Black. Sleek. The Malfoy family crest on the front. His Father's name on the top. "...his ashes?"

Andromeda nodded silently. A tornado of emotions slammed into Draco's chest. Anger, fear, pain, grief, fury, respect- he couldn't name several of them. He closed his eyes, shutting the box tightly before opening them again.

"Your father wanted his ashes spread over the great oceans." Andromeda began quietly.

"Mother would want to do that." Draco found his voice surprisingly steady. Andromeda turned her gaze towards him, almost pityingly. That look he wouldn't take. He sneered at her, "Don't look at me like that. You know she would. Besides…" his hands wanted to smash the box, here, and bury the ashes forever in this patch of dirt. "I don't think I can touch him right now." Andromeda nodded. She carefully put the box away. A thought hit him. If she cared so much… "Why didn't you come to St. Mungo's?"

"I came when you were not there," Andromeda admitted easily, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I was uncertain… if you would welcome my presence."

Draco felt her lay a hand respectfully atop of his. She spoke silent words through her Legilimency, and he listened. He knew how to connect with a witch like this. There were no smiles or hugs, or stories, or consolement. Just a touch, and a silent sharing of memories and thoughts. His shoulders relaxed as they both held eyes, and he was told the story of his mother's childhood, and his Aunt's disownment.


	20. Chapter 20: Memories

**Chapter 20: Memories**

Hermione sat in Ron's bedroom, translation books scattered about the floor. She'd tried to work in her room, but Ginny was unrelenting in her teasing about Hermione's drunken behavior. Her face grew hot just thinking about that again.

She'd been so comfortable, relaxed, and had slept better than she had in a very long time. Her dreams had been somewhat wild. When she heard Ginny and George cackling, and opened her eyes, she thought she was still dreaming. Draco Malfoy's hand held hers, fingers laced, against his chest. She had a leg over him, and her breasts were pressed against his side. Her face flushed when she also realized that her body was tingling with arousal. Confused, ashamed, embarrassed, she ran from the room as quickly as she could.

A sudden cry downstairs broke her thoughts. Standing, wand in hand, she ran down the staircase. There hadn't been a sound like that in this house for more than a year. It made her heart freeze in her chest.

George was running up the stairs. They both paused, staring at each other. The bathroom door flung open, and Draco stumbled out of it backwards. He only wore a towel at his waist. Hermione's eyes raked down his body before she could stop herself. He was pale, and the skin on his chest didn't look right. With a start, she saw the outline of scars, paler than his skin, woven across his chest, raised slightly. She put a hand to her mouth as she remembered. _Sectumsempra_.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" George caught Draco as his foot hit the stair and he nearly went tumbling down. Hermione could see he was shaking. His fists were clenched, and he was staring straight into the bathroom as if he'd seen a ghost. Hermione saw the skin between his ribs dug in a little too much. His muscles were outlined tightly against skin stretched too thin. The Dark Mark sat there, faded and dull, but not gone. Not forgotten.

George suddenly went pale as well. She saw Ginny climbing the stairs behind him. Without a word, he pushed Draco towards their mother's new knitting room. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were wide and surprised as George pushed Draco down into a chair.

"Haircut."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look. They remembered.

_Ginny sat, sniffling slightly. Hermione had her arms wrapped around her. She'd had another nightmare. They both jumped when they heard a sudden, loud crack, followed immediately by a silencing charm. Rushing out in the hall, they saw the bathroom light on, but no sound. Carefully peering around, Hermione saw Mr. Weasley, Charlie and… and George… George had his arms around his father, and he was sobbing so hard, it looked like he would break. Ginny held Hermione's hand quickly, squeezing it tightly. The mirror behind them was smashed. George's hands had shards of glass falling from them, and his knuckles were weeping with blood. Charlie was saying something. Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement._

_The eldest brother pulled out his wand and pointed it to George's hair. Short locks suddenly grew long down his back- almost matching Charlie's. George collapsed to his knees, and Mr. Weasley held him tightly, falling gently to the floor with him. Charlie raised his wand to repair the mirror. He saw them in the reflection. His head shook slowly side to side and he nodded at them to get back in Ginny's room._

Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from Draco. She'd never seen anyone react this way. Mrs. Weasley was charming his hair cut, and Draco sat there, eyes fixed, body locked. Quite suddenly, his eyes closed and his entire body slackened. He teetered dangerously in his seat, fists suddenly pressing hard against his thighs to catch himself. Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted to embrace him. George stopped her. Draco murmured. She replied and then George spoke, but she couldn't hear. His eye caught hers and Ginny's. A slow shake of no, a nod for them to get out of the way.

Hermione felt Ginny pulling her fingers from the railing. She'd gone white knuckled, holding it so tightly. Silently, they turned to withdraw to the top of the stairs. Draco and George soon descended and disappeared.

Mrs. Weasley was crying softly in the knitting room. Ginny went to her.

"I don't know what to do," she muttered. "I never had much love for Lucius Malfoy… but that boy…that young man… He's so thin… and so closed…" she sniffed, wiping her nose. "I can't feed him, or make him talk. He doesn't like to be touched." She sighed, "There has to be someone in that family that would know how to help."

Suddenly, her eyes flew open and her tears ceased. "Stay here. I will be back soon." She put down her knitting and rushed downstairs. Ginny gave Hermione a confused look. They heard the rush of the floo powder crackling in the fire, and heard Mrs. Weasley yell something intelligible from here.

George climbed the stairs slowly. He sat down heavily between Ginny and Hermione. "Didn't know Malfoy had one of these too." He pulled a necklace from under his shirt. "Lovegood trying to save the world, one charm at a time?" Another phoenix… with a black wing. Hermione pointed her wand at it and the bird flared a bright silver, the black receding. Both Ginny and George stared at her.

"Luna… taught me how they work," Hermione muttered.

George eyes her wand carefully. "From now on, when you drink, you better have a DWP."

"DWP?" That was new.

"Designated wand person," Ginny replied with a grin. Hermione grit her teeth. They laughed at her discomfort. She stormed back up into Ron's room and slammed the door, getting lost in the translation of Draco's book.

Several hours later, a delicious smell began to waft up the staircase. Almond? She couldn't place it. The scent was nutty, and growing stronger and stronger. The doorbell rang. Hermione blinked, realizing she'd been locked up here all day. Time to gather her books, cap her ink and clear her mind. The smell from the kitchen reminded her about how hungry she was.

At the top landing, she glanced out the window to the backyard. Two people were sitting under a tall tree. Hermione stepped a little closer. Draco… With Andromeda? Everything clicked. Mrs. Weasley had gone to ask Andromeda for help. Narcissa and Bellatrix's sister. The only blood relative left to Draco now. Hermione examined them for a moment. Andromeda had her hand on Draco's and they were silently staring each other down. Neither seemed uncomfortable at all, though they barely seemed to blink.

Hermione felt like an intruder. She quickly shuffled away, down the stairs. A sizzling sound filled the air, and the nutty aroma began to change… onion… celery… and peppers? What was Mrs. Weasley making?

Teddy Lupin attached himself to her leg as soon as she appeared at the bottom of the staircase. She smiled, ruffling his blue hair it changed from blue to orange to black to pink back to blue as she did it. He squealed with delight and took off after Crookshanks.

"Can I help?" Hermione asked as she entered the kitchen.

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were soon joined by Ginny. Everyone was back home for dinner within the hour. Soon the house was full, with a cauldron of something spicy and delicious in the center of the table. Magical serving bowls flew across the room. Had she really gotten so lost in translating that she'd skipped eating all day?

Andromeda say next to Draco. Hermione didn't understand how they weren't trying to talk to each other. However, she was distracted when a bowl landed in front of her.

Gumbo. Seafood gumbo. Andromeda was watching Draco slyly out of the corner of her eye. Hermione felt strangely transfixed as she watched Draco take a spoonful into his mouth. He closed his eyes, shoulders relaxing. Andromeda turned away from him as she smiled and began to feed Teddy. A smile twitched at the corner of his lip and he kept the spoon there. He withdrew it slowly, turning the spoon and licking it before dipping it back into the bowl. Hermione felt too warm. What was wrong with her? She watched him take a second bite, savoring the flavor, eyes drawn towards his lips and suddenly felt incredibly shocked at herself. Was she really ogling him? At the dinner table? But she couldn't look away.

His tongue traced the spoon again. That small smile on his lips was nice. She had to stop. His silver eyes suddenly caught her. A blush invaded her face and she quickly looked away, to see Ginny watching her, watching Draco. She gave her a raised eyebrow, speaking so only she could hear. "Maybe there was a reason drunk Hermione decided to claim Draco Malfoy as her blanket…"

She wanted to crawl under the table and hide. After dinner, everyone praised Mrs. Weasley's cooking, and then most people seemed to go to bed. Hermione spread her books and papers out across the table, sitting down to finish the last few pages in Draco's book. Her mind was so focused that she didn't realize she was being watched until finishing the last sentence.

Draco was standing at the far end of the table, eyes following the completed pages. She glanced out the window. When had it gotten this dark? What time was it?

Draco came closer, sitting nearby and lifted a page to read in his hand. Hermione saw his palms and reached a hand to touch him, gently pressing his arm down to the table. She moved her hand down his arm, so his palm lay open in front of her. Scars... His nails? Without a word, she lifted her wand and healed them, then held out her hand for his left arm. He hesitated before very slowly handing it to her. Hermione put his arm down as well, repeating her healing trick. The edge of the Dark Mark was visible, since his sleeve had rolled up. She placed her wand down on the table, and very slowly undid the buttons at his wrist, pulling the sleeve away to reveal it fully.

"Why did you do it?" she asked quietly, barely brushing her fingertips over it.

"...don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to."

"I want to know." she responded quickly, eyes still examining the mark.

"Then look at me, Granger." Their eyes met, his hand closed on top of hers... but something about the eye contact was too intense. She tried to look away. His hand lightly caught her chin, turning her eyes to lock with his again. An image began to swim before her eyes.

"_Your Father failed his mission at the Ministry of Magic." Voldemort's cold voice spoke. Draco remained kneeling on the floor, silent, head down. "You know, of course, Draco, that when one of my Followers fails me, I have no choice but to punish them and their families. You and your dear Mother, will have to die."_

"_There is no need for that, my Lord," Draco responded coolly. "I will take the place of my Father in your ranks. You will not be failed a second time."_

_Silence. Tense silence. "...You are telling the truth…" He sighed, "It does appear I have a task for you as well… I accept this. Draco Malfoy, stand: and present to me your arm."_

_Draco obeyed. The Dark Mark felt foul, as though it violated his magical core by existing there. He was able to stand, able to walk from the room, able to contain himself. By the time he shut the door to his chamber, he collapsed to the floor, coughing, gagging, retching. His mother found him like that. She called on several house elves to help get him into bed. Crying. Tears fell down her cheeks. Draco put a hand on her face. "It'll be alright, Mother." She closed her eyes, and the tears only seemed to fall faster._

Hermione gasped softly, blinking quickly, looking around the room. "What… what was that?!"

"A memory." Draco replied quietly, "My memory."

"But you don't have a wand," she whispered, glancing at hers on the table, "How did you do that without your wand?"

"My family is talented with Occlumency and Legilimency." he replied with a shrug. "Never needed a wand for it."

"...can you see my memories, too?"

"I could, if I wanted to," Draco replied calmly. "You don't have any shields, Granger. Don't worry. I'm not planning on a midnight stroll through your mind."

"I want to know what that feels like," she said, curiosity rising at the thought. His silver eyes met hers and he shook his head no.

"Granger, I can't control what I'll see." He turned back to her papers, "I can only control what I choose to share."

Why was her curiosity so strong? Biting her lip, she squeezed his hand. "...please?"


	21. Chapter 21: The Kiss

**Chapter 21: The Kiss**

Draco turned his head sharply and stared at her. She was supposed to be the smart one of her little trio. Asking him to go into her mind? Because, what, she was intrigued? What the hell was wrong with this witch? He pulled his hand away, pushing from the table to stand.

"Granger, that is a very stupid idea," he said coolly. "You don't know what you're asking for."

He turned away from her, wandering towards the living room, where he had been lost in a book after dinner. The endless scrubbing of her quill had finally been impossible to ignore. When he picked up his book from the low table in front of the couch, he was surprised to see she'd followed him. Now, her hands were on her hips and she was giving him the stare of the lioness. "Don't call me stupid."

"I said your idea was stupid, Granger." He snapped, drumming his fingers against the book in his hand. "Intelligent people can still have bad ideas."

He tried to walk past her to go to his room and lock the door, but she blocked him. Persistent thing. Her brown eyes were glowing with curiosity. "Why's it a bad idea?"

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" He growled, clenching the book tightly. "Granger, I could see _anything_ and there is _nothing_ you can do to stop it! You could barely look me in the eye when I tried sharing a memory with you. It's worse when someone is taking."

"Harry tried to learn Occlumency. I read all about it to help him, and I don't think it's really as hard as it's made it out to be." She snapped at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "...I want to know."

He flung the book down in a chair, anger bubbling. "No. Go away." Draco turned away from her to the door, and stomped out in the garden before she could block him again. His feet took him to the tree he had sat under with Aunt Andromeda hours earlier.

The air was muggy and humid. That didn't help his temper. The leaves bent and swayed in the wind. Far off in the distance, he could hear the dull rumble of thunder. A storm was brewing.

He paced, unable to sit. She thought it was easy, then? Thought that knowing how it feels would make her capable of blocking it? Knowledge didn't mean ability! This wasn't something you could try a few times and master. Her ignorance, and stubborn belief in book smarts, grated his nerves. He heard her following him and grit his teeth, realizing she wasn't about to give up anytime soon.

"You're going to regret this." He warned, turning towards her slowly. "...is there anything I can say to convince you that this is a terrible idea?"

"I disagree, so no," she replied, arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

He clenched his fists. Why was he giving in? She was going to be furious, or terrified, just flat out emotional after he'd pulled something from her mind. He didn't want to see her cry anymore. "... don't hold me responsible for whatever happens, Granger, you're practically forcing me to do this."

"I won't," she promised, arms relaxing as he relented. Draco sat stiffly on the bench, waving at her to sit next to him. She obeyed, pulling her hair over her shoulder as the wind rushed over them. He put a hand down between them.

"Put your hand on mine."

"Why?"

He rolled his eyes, impatient, wanting to get this over with. "I don't need a wand. I do need eye contact, and to touch the person I'm reading. The top hand signifies the mind being read."

"Fascinating," Hermione muttered, "That's almost like the ability of a Seer to read objects."

Her hand touched his, fingers curling hesitatingly into his palm. He watched her face as she tried to hold his eyes. Why was she so uncomfortable when looking people in the eye? After a moment, she managed it without his help. He pulled lightly at her mind, apprehensive about what would come back.

_The image of her translating at the table floated to the surface. She could smell the parchment and ink. The letters of her translation were crystal clear. A small papercut made her stick her thumb in her mouth._

She gasped, pulling her hand away to cover her mouth with both hands.

He was thankful it hadn't been worse. "Are we done now?"

"No." She turned her body to face him more straight on, "Again. I want to try to block you."

"Can I remind you how idiotic this is?"

"You just did. Good job." Her tone was dismissive. That hand held his a second time, holding tightly, hesitation gone. "Again." She didn't have as much trouble with eye contact this time. Irritated, he pulled at her mind a second time, holding his breath as he did it.

_Hermione was just getting her letter from Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall sat in her living room, explaining everything to her and her parents. Her heart was fluttering in her chest. Her mother and father looked so surprised, and pleased. They rattled off question after question. Where was this Hogwarts, how did she get there, what would she need, where could they buy things, how had this happened. Hermione could barely sit still in her chair._

_Her mother beamed at her and Hermione giggled, throwing herself into her mother's arms. She held her tightly, kissing the top of her head. Hermione felt light as a feather, breathless with joy and wonder. She was a witch!_

Draco could feel her trying to push him out. A surprisingly good first attempt, but it wasn't strong enough against him. He pulled away from her mind this time, sliding his hand out from under hers and placing it on his knee. "It takes practiced meditation to develop the skill to block someone. That's enough."

"Wait, once more!" Hermione put her hand on his again, sliding closer to reach.

He frowned deeply, shaking his head no. "You just rolled the dice twice and got lucky," Draco warned in a low voice. "If I go back in there, there's a much higher chance that I'll see something you don't want me to see."

"Maybe I'll get lucky again," she shrugged.

"Granger…" he said coolly, trying to pull his hand away.

"I know it was working," she spoke quickly, tightening the grasp of his hand. "I felt it. I just want to try one more time. I already said I won't hold you responsible for whatever happens. Please?"

He growled in irritation, but turned to her, "Last time." She nodded in agreement. Their eyes locked. He pulled again, trying to delve into a shallow memory, something on her mind, so he wouldn't risk diving into the night at the Manor. He didn't think he'd be able to stomach seeing that from her perspective.

_Lips were pressing to hers. Soft, uncertain, gentle. It was a nice kiss. Her first real kiss. She felt like he was afraid that she would break. Krum pulled away from her, smiling shyly. Her lips smiled back. Somehow, she'd expected it to be more than that._

She was thinking about that. It'd been right there, at the front of her mind. "...why are you thinking about kissing Victor Krum?" he was unable to stop himself from asking.

"_I'll get you a blanket." he responded, managing to pull one arm away. His warmth was dissipating as he drew back, his hand reaching for a blanket at the end of her bed. Her hand caught his jaw, pulling him back to her face._

_She didn't want a blanket. He was warmer than that. "I want you."_

Draco's mind reeled back. He shut down his emotions. She didn't mean that the way he'd hoped. He'd known she was drunk. Disappointment twinged at him slightly, but he mentally scolded himself for it. Why did he feel anything? Without a word, he stood to walk away from her.

"It again."

He paused, turning to see she'd stood. A blush was coloring her face, but her eyes were glowing brightly in the dark. His eyebrows went down in confusion. She swallowed hard, "...you told me to say it again, when I was sober."

What? "That's not what I asked you to say," his response was quick. She blushed darker. His mind was still trying to process this. Was he dreaming? It had to be a dream. _If you say it, I'm not going to be able to to refuse. _The thought startled him. His feet were slowly coming back towards her. She couldn't want him, could she? It was just a random train of thought. She wasn't really going to say it, was she? She'd be afraid, she'd look away, she'd walk away, and they'd both forget that she'd ever-

The steady gaze of the lioness, foolishly brave, met him. "I want you... to kiss me."

His mask fell, he could feel it. Surprise, but mainly desire flooded his senses. "Why?" He whispered while his body moved without waiting for an answer. His arm snaked around her waist. One hand brushed her hair as his lips pressed against hers gently. It was barely a whisper of a touch. He increased the pressure, pulling her tighter against him. One of her hands pressed against his chest, fingertips curling against his collarbone.

_What are you doing?!_ The little voice in his mind exploded suddenly. Draco withdrew as if she'd slapped him. Before the voice could say anything else, Hermione shut it down as she held his jaw, just like she had the other night. "... because I wanted to kiss you."

Heat coiled in his body as her lips pressed against his, hard. It flared as her fingers dug through his hair, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He couldn't think, lips pressing against hers hard, feeling slightly out of control. Her tongue traced his lower lip and he opened his mouth to her. The feeling of her tongue pressing against his was very nice. He caught her lower lip with his teeth, sucking lightly and releasing it. Her nails dug into him slightly.

It was starting to rain. The air shifted and what began as a drizzle quickly turned into a downpour. Thunder cracked overhead and lightning lit up the world through his closed eyes. She jumped back at the sudden sensation of the storm, and laced her fingers with his, running back to the door of the house. He let her drag him, staring at her long brown hair as she ran.

She'd wanted him to kiss her. She'd wanted to kiss him. Draco's mind was spinning with those thoughts, and clouded with her taste. Those dark eyes locked to his on the doorstep, and he couldn't breathe. He wasn't prepared for her to push him against the door, hands fisted in his shirt, and claim his lips again. This was nothing like the kiss she'd had with Krum. His hands fell to her hips, pulling her against him harder. There was a hunger in this kiss. Her teeth met his lip roughly and he moaned lightly against her mouth, fingers digging tightly into her body.

The door suddenly swung open behind them. They both went crashing to the floor. Draco caught her against his chest, his head hitting the floor and making him see stars.

Ron Weasley stood over them.

The color on that face, the way he held himself, told Draco that he knew exactly what had just happened. The unsteady wand pointed at his face told him that the red faced, red haired man had some strong feelings about it, too.


	22. Chapter 22: The Kiss of a Lioness

**Chapter 22: The Kiss of a Lioness**

Hermione couldn't believe how strange it felt. The first time had surprised her. She hadn't been prepared for the sensation of something pulling from her mind. She gasped, putting her hands to her mouth. It disappeared instantly. He'd seen her working at the kitchen table.

He looked relieved. "Are we done now?"

"No." She was fascinated. Her body to face him more straight on, "Again. I want to try to block you."

"Can I remind you how idiotic this is?"

"You just did. Good job." She held his hand tightly. "Again." She didn't have as much trouble with eye contact this time. She felt something pull and tried to push back. Her Hogwarts letter. That's what he saw. He pulled away from her mind, sliding his hand out from under hers and placing it on his knee. "It takes practiced meditation to develop the skill to block someone. That's enough."

"Wait, once more!" Hermione put her hand on his again, sliding closer to reach.

He frowned deeply, shaking his head no, his voice low. "You just rolled the dice twice and got lucky. If I go back in there, there's a much higher chance that I'll see something you don't want me to see."

"Maybe I'll get lucky again," she shrugged.

"Granger…" he said coolly, trying to pull his hand away.

"I know it was working," she spoke quickly, tightening the grasp on his hand. If she were being honest, she liked the feeling of his hand. If they stopped… she'd have to let go. "I felt it. I just want to try one more time. I already said I won't hold you responsible for whatever happens. Please?"

He growled in irritation, but turned to her, "Last time." She nodded in agreement. Their eyes locked. Her eyes flickered to his lips. She thought about dinner, and the spoon in his mouth. She liked the shape of his lips. What did they feel like? Then, her mind ran away from her. A sense of panic hit her when she realized what he was seeing. She could feel his light pull on her thoughts.

"...why are you thinking about kissing Victor Krum?"

She remembered him putting her to bed the other night. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Could he see what she remembered, or what she wanted? Draco's face suddenly hardened. His mask went up and he pulled away quickly. Without a word, he stood to walk away from her. A new wave of alarm hit her with that look. Why had he closed off?

"It again." she stood, trying to make him stay.

He paused, turning back to her. A blush was coloring her face, but she refused to back down to her fear. His eyebrows went down in confusion. She swallowed hard, "...you told me to say it again, when I was sober."

"That's not what I asked you to say," his response was quick.

She blushed darker. Was he really going to make her say it? Didn't he understand from the memory? He was coming back to her, though, slowly, one step at a time. She summoned her courage. If she wanted it, she'd have to say it… and she was surprised how much she wanted it. "I want you... to kiss me."

His mask fell and the heat of desire slithered its way into his features. That took her breath away. No one had ever looked at her like that. "Why?" He whispered, his arm snaked around her waist. One hand brushed her hair as his lips pressed against hers gently. It was barely a whisper of a touch. He increased the pressure, pulling her tighter against him. One of her hands pressed against his chest, fingertips curling against his collarbone.

Draco suddenly pulled away as if he'd been smacked. Before he could say anything, Hermione held his jaw, telling him the truth. "... because I wanted to kiss you."

She pressed her lips hard against his. Her fingers dug through his hair, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Something emboldened her. She'd never kissed anyone like this. Her tongue traced his lower lip and he opened his mouth to her. His mouth caught her lower lip with his teeth, sucking lightly and releasing it. Her nails dug into him slightly.

It was starting to rain. The air shifted and what began as a drizzle quickly turned into a downpour. Thunder cracked overhead and lightning lit up the world. She jumped back at the sudden sensation of the storm, and laced her fingers with his, running back to the door of the house. He had kissed her. She had kissed him.

As they stepped to the doorstep, she turned to see his mask was gone. That look was desire, and pleasure and she wanted to keep it that way. Feeling every bit like a lion attacking its prey, she pushed him against the door, hands fisted in his shirt, and claimed his lips again.

His hands fell to her hips, pulling her against him harder. He wasn't afraid she would break. She wanted more. Her teeth met his lip roughly and he moaned lightly against her mouth, fingers digging tightly into her body. That sound, and those fingers, sent her heartbeat throbbing everywhere at once.

The door suddenly swung open behind them. They both went crashing to the floor. Draco caught her against his chest, arms wrapped protectively around her body as they fell.

Ron Weasley stood over them. His face was nearly purple, and an unsteady wand pointed at Draco's face.

Hermione felt rage. She stood quickly, took Ron by the ear and dragged him across the kitchen to her and Ginny's bedroom. He cried out in pain, trying to pull away, but she wasn't having it. She tossed him inside and followed. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and she locked it, setting extra sound barriers. Her heart still pounded in her chest, the sensation of arousal still hammered in her bones, and water dripped from her soaked clothes and hair to the floor.

Ginny sat up suddenly in her bed as Ron began cursing at her. "What in the seven hells, Hermione?! What was that, huh? Kissing _him_?" He bellowed, pointing towards the door, "Fucking Draco MALFOY!" He seemed unable to find the right curses. He threw his wand at her. She caught it, tempted to snap it. Seething, she threw it at Ginny to keep herself from doing something stupid. As an afterthought, she threw hers to Ginny as well. Ron would never hit her, she knew, but both of them had been known to throw a few jinxes when they got too worked up.

"It's none of your business who I decide to kiss!" Hermione found herself bellowing back at him, fists clenched at her sides. She felt like they were back to the Yule Ball, demolishing the peace of the Gryffindor common room as they roared at each other from opposite sides of the room.

"You were all cozy, staring into each other's eyes," Ron hissed, his eyes suddenly widened. "Did he curse you? Imperio you? Ginny, give me back my wand. I'm gonna curse his balls off."

"He didn't do anything to me!" Hermione shouted, going red in the face. "I asked him to kiss me. I WANTED it, Ronald Weasley! And you had to interrupt us, for what?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU HURT!" Ron roared, punching the wall in his anger. "I don't want to see you being taken advantage of, especially by that rotten little ferret." He suddenly held her shoulders tightly, staring her down, "Did you forget what he called you? All the fucking time, Hermione, did you forget? Because I haven't! I don't want to watch him make you fall for him, to use you, and then throw you aside like you mean nothing. You think we haven't seen the way you two have been looking at each other?"

Hermione was speechless. Ron wasn't done. He released her, dragging both hands through his hair as though he were going to rip it out.

"He's barely been out of Azkaban for a month, Hermione! Have you forgotten everything that put him in there in the first place? How can you WANT him to kiss you?"

Luna's necklace pulsed softly against Hermione's chest. She frowned at Ron, finding her words, shaking, trying to keep her voice calm. "Hagrid was in Azkaban. So was Sirius. Just because someone spends time in Azkaban, doesn't mean they're-"

"Bellatrix Lestrange was in Azkaban," Ron interrupted loudly, fists back at his sides, going purple. His volume rose dangerously, "Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban. Don't give me that shit, Hermione. Wake up!"

"Ron, I appreciate your concern, but this isn't up to you!" Hermione yelled back, tears in her eyes. "It's none of your business!"

Ron grit his teeth together. He was shaking with rage. Ginny looked back and forth between them slowly. Ron's fists released. The purple began to fade slowly. "If he hurts you, I'll kill him," Ron promised in a threatening growl. With the look on that face, she believed him.

"You'll have to get in line," Ginny quipped back. "Now… I think we are in need of some serious girl time." She threw him back his wand, "Get out."

Ron moved to the door, pausing next to Hermione. They held eyes. He looked guilty. He wanted to say more. He didn't know the words. Huffing, he turned away, unlocking the door, opening it and slamming it shut.

Hermione was still shaking. She hadn't yelled like that in years. With a start, she realized she was crying. Hermione pressed both hands against her eyes, rubbing them hard. Draco had been an absolute piece of trash to her throughout most of their time at school together. Ron wasn't wrong about that. Draco had changed though… hadn't he? He hadn't called her a mudblood once since she'd seen him again. But that mask… she didn't always know what he was thinking. What if he was plotting something? That would be so very Slytherin… Was he trying to use her? Was Ron right? Hermione felt angry, confused, ashamed, and deeply saddened. She blindly stumbled back against the wall, a lamp fell off the table nearby, shattering as it hit the floor. Hermione slid to the floor, heart hammering in her chest. Part of the glass caught her hand as she threw them out to the sides to catch herself.

Ginny knelt at her side quickly, taking her bloody hand gently by the wrist, pulling out the glass. Hermione's wand was in her hand. Ginny tried to use it, but the wound barely sealed. Ginny cursed and stood quickly to grab her own wand to heal the gash.

A scuffle happened just outside the door. Low voices, a shout, the sound of a fist on skin, the fall of a body. Then the door opened quickly.

Hermione looked up through her tears. Draco Malfoy stood there, kneeling down. She hiccuped, her breathing was too fast. Ron appeared just behind him, glowering down at the man. Draco lifted Hermione's wand and healed the gash immediately. It sealed completely. His hand brushed the tears away from her cheeks. "...I thought I'd avoided your tears tonight."

That was too much. How did her wand answer to him, when it wouldn't answer to Ginny? Hope and fear burst in her chest at the same moment. The combination was painful, and terrifying. She was sobbing, sudden and unexpected. Hermione folded her arms around her knees, drawing her face down, unable to suppress any of it. Fights with Ron always brought this out in the worst way, but somehow this was different. She heard Ginny shoo them both from the room. When her friend knelt down, Hermione threw her arms around her neck, sobbing against Ginny's neck and shoulder.

"What if he's right?" Hermione whispered, the words painful in her mouth.

Ginny held her tight, rubbing her back in comforting circles. "When has my brother ever been right, Hermione?"


	23. Chapter 23: Now what?

**Chapter 23: Now what?**

Draco sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He followed them and tried the door, but she had locked it. There was nothing to hear. A sealing charm? A silencing charm? He grit his teeth, leaning against the door, willing the charm to break, wanting his wand so he could unlock the damn door himself.

Sound shifted. The Weasley was so upset, that his shout shattered the silencing charm. "BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU HURT! I don't want to see you being taken advantage of, especially by that rotten little ferret."

Draco felt a wave of cold dread wash over him. He slammed his fist against the door, snarling, "Don't you put that in her head, Weasley!"

"Did you forget what he called you? All the fucking time, Hermione, did you forget? Because I haven't! I don't want to watch him make you fall for him, to use you, and then throw you aside like you mean nothing. You think we haven't seen the way you two have been looking at each other?"

Draco felt all the air go out of his lungs. Why was Ron doing this? The words were like a knife, twisting in the center of Draco's chest. He couldn't box his emotions- he couldn't even attempt to find the mental guards in his brain. "He's barely been out of Azkaban for a month, Hermione! Have you forgotten everything that put him in there in the first place? How can you WANT him to kiss you?"

_Granger, don't listen to him. Don't let this worm its way into your brain… _Draco slammed an open palm against the door, leaning his head on his hand in defeat. How could she not see what Ron was saying? He backed away from the door, hitting the wall behind him, staring at the doorknob. _...please… _The necklace pulsed softly against his chest. He could hear her voice, shaking, but attempting calm. "Hagrid was in Azkaban. So was Sirius. Just because someone spends time in Azkaban, doesn't mean they're-"

"Bellatrix Lestrange was in Azkaban," Ron interrupted loudly, his volume rose dangerously, "Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban. Don't give me that shit, Hermione. Wake up!"

"Ron, I appreciate your concern, but this isn't up to you!" Hermione yelled back, her voice cracked. "It's none of your business!"

Silence. Draco felt gutted. What reason would she possibly have to give him a chance, when one of her best friends laid everything out like that?

"If he hurts you, I'll kill him," Ron promised in a threatening growl.

"You'll have to get in line," Ginny quipped back. Ginny was in there? She'd heard all of this, too? Fuck. "Now… I think we are in need of some serious girl time… Get out."

Silence for a moment. The door opened. For a fraction of a second, Draco saw her face. She was shaking, eyes furious and glaring at Ron's head, tears flowing down her cheeks. It looked like she didn't know she was crying. The door slammed shut. Ron tensed, staring him down. They stayed that way for a long moment. A sudden breaking of glass caught his ears. What was happening? He couldn't stand this anymore.

"Move, now," Draco muttered softly.

"Make me, Malfoy," Ron sneered, eyes geared for a fight.

His fist connected to Ron's stomach barely a moment after the words left his mouth. Ron cried out as all the air went out of him and he fell sideways to the floor. Draco ripped the door open. Hermione looked up at him from the floor, hiccuping and hyperventilating. She held her hand in front of her. Blood was welling there, like water. He knelt down, picking up the wand near her foot, and healed it immediately. _Woman, I hate seeing you cry… _His hand brushed the tears away from her cheeks. "...I thought I'd avoided your tears tonight."

Hermione suddenly burst into loud, unrestrained sobs, wrapping her arms around her knees and making herself as small as possible. He dropped the wand. Draco's mind went blank. What had he done? What should he do? Purebloods were raised to withdraw emotions. He hadn't ever experienced anyone crying like this. His eyes raked across the room to Ginny for help.

Her wand was pointed over Draco's shoulder, face furious. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ron Weasley retreating at the threatening gesture. Ginny's eyes glanced to Hermione sadly for a moment, then met his. She nodded her head to the door, telling him to leave.

He obeyed, but when the door closed, he pressed his back to it, sliding down. Her sobs were audible from here. He brought his knee to an elbow and held his face in one hand, staring at the floor, feeling helpless. Countless times, he'd made her cry. He didn't care back then… but now... none of those times had ever felt like this.

"What if he's right?" Hermione whispered. Draco felt a stone of dread in his stomach. He closed his eyes, shoulders sagging. _Thanks, Weasley… As if I needed to give her another reason to doubt me._

"When has my brother ever been right, Hermione?"

Draco's eyes shot open. He lifted his head, lightly pressing it to the door behind him, looking up at the ceiling and sighing thankfully. Ginny didn't have any reason not to believe her brother's words. Draco could see how it would've been a cunning plan, at one time. That was before the war. Before his ideals about pureblood and mudblood had been shattered. Now… the thought of using her… he closed his eyes. That thought made his stomach churn violently.

A scuffle caught his ears. Draco turned his head to see Ron Weasley, storming off out of sight. The other two standing there didn't follow him. George was looking after his brother. Potter was staring straight at Draco, his expression giving away none of his thoughts.

How long had they been watching? Draco sat up straight quickly, trying to find the pieces of his mask, trying to withdraw and shut down. He couldn't do it, not while hearing her sob behind him. Standing, he tried to walk past them. George grabbed his arm, and pulled him out to the garden. It was still downpouring. The storm was loud. He was soaked to the skin just after getting outside.

After a few strides, he released Draco's arm. The man didn't say a word, instead, he walked over to a ragged looking shack and threw the door open. George disappeared inside for a moment, and emerged with three broomsticks and three beater bats attached to a case that shuddered violently. He tossed a broomstick to Draco, and one behind him. Potter.

"What is this?" Draco asked, blood pounding in his temples, rain pouring down his face.

"Can't have you and Ron having a go at each other right now. It'll upset Hermione even more." George replied simply, mounting his broom. "You're gonna take all that out on the bludgers."

It helped. As Draco flew through the air, hitting the bludgers as hard as he could, imagining Ron's face, the anger became less and less until the only thing left was numbness. The pellets of water digging into his skin were harsh and cold. They kept it up for about an hour. When the storm started to fade, George caught the bludgers and wrestled them back into their box in mid-air. That was impressive. Draco tossed the beater club to him. The wind and rain whipping through his hair felt good. How long had it been since he'd been on a broomstick?

_The night Potter saved your life in the room of requirement._

Draco's eyes flickered over to the black haired man, also soaked to the bone, and his eyes were carefully expressionless. They landed on the ground, and all of them walked into the shed to store the brooms. For a long moment, they all stood there. In the silence, Draco knew that Ron hadn't been the only person to see what had happened in the garden tonight.

George put a hand on his shoulder, thumping it there twice. "Be smarter than my idiot brother… don't make her cry."

The red haired man walked off after that. Draco stared after him. What?

"Draco."

His silver eyes snapped back to the man who still stood with a guarded expression, raising an eyebrow. "First name basis now, are we Potter?"

"Well… if you're snogging my best friend… then, yeah. First name basis." Harry replied evenly. Draco felt a tinge of red invade his face before he could stop it. "...why'd you kiss her? What does she mean to you?" Draco refused to answer. He didn't know how he felt. Seeing her cry made him ache, and kissing her was one of the best things he'd ever known. Back to back, the two left him completely overwhelmed and unable to process. "I don't like it." Harry continued quietly, "Ron's got it right. You treated her like scum. All of us, really, but it was the worst with her. Calling her mudblood every chance you got." Draco clenched his fists, remaining silent. There was nothing he could say to that. It was true. They were both silent, the pounding of the rain on the roof above them the only thing to be heard.

Potter drew his wand. Draco's blood turned to ice. He went rigid. Granger was giving his wand back tomorrow, damn it. He hated being unarmed and unable to protect himself. "Show me why I should trust you, Malfoy. What's changed? Why did you kiss her?"

With a jolt, he felt Potter pulling at his memories. Draco's shields hadn't been up. He hadn't been prepared. He scrambled to correct his mistake... To find he couldn't do it. Panic rose in his chest. He couldn't do it? Why not? Potter wasn't more frightening than the Dark Lord! Why couldn't he do it?

_Potter saw her in Diagon Alley. He watched as Draco sprang from his seat, yelling, dueling… then she was sitting at Draco's bedside, moving papers on his lap so he could sign. Then, she was on the floor of St. Mungo's, sobbing. Draco put her back in the chair. He saw the paper sticking out of the file and put it back… Her hands holding his hair as she poured the calming draft in his mouth... Her temper when the calming draft had revealed its side effect, Draco holding her as she cried, pulling at her curls softly. Her falling asleep against his chest. Images of her eyes and lips and laughter and tears swirled in his brain incoherently. The night he'd destroyed the room where she'd been tortured. Her scream, tearing into his chest. Potter saw him looking at a deflated Hermione Granger, sadness radiating from her dark eyes. He offered his arm to take her to tea. Why do you want me here? Then, heard Luna speaking with him at the table when Hermione had told them all what was happening. I'm not connected to her. Yes, you are. He saw the drunken night under the stars, when he had nearly kissed her when he'd fallen over her body. Carrying her to bed, her strange, drunken behavior. Leg locker curse, the sensation of her body pressed against his. Her hand on his bare chest, moving down his body-_

"STOP!" Draco yelled, feet rooted. Potter couldn't see anymore. To his relief, the wizard slowly lowered his wand, staring hard at him. It took Draco a moment to realize he was trembling from head to toe. It had been a long time since he'd been unable to throw up his guard in the blink of an eye. Why couldn't he? What was wrong with him?

"Damn…" Harry whispered, pocketing his wand and running a hand through his hair in the same motion, "You actually do care about her..."

Draco felt a sudden lump in his throat. That's what it felt like to care for someone? A confused jumble of emotions? What bullshit. Draco growled angrily, unable to repress the words. "Don't tell me that, Potter. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Hermione _asked _me to kiss her."

He wasn't listening. Harry thumped Draco on the shoulder, very much in the same way George had done so. "Ron had her crying like that for a long time...don't make her cry anymore."

"I have no intention of making her cry." The words were out of his mouth before he could weigh them. Potter nodded at that, then went back out in the rain. Draco stood there, stunned. What was happening to him? Unable to control his tongue, his temper, his mental guards, he'd had Harry Potter, of all people, rummaging around his mind. How did Potter even know how to do that?

Draco sat down on the floor of the shed, still dripping wet, holding his head between his hands. A scream of utter frustration left his lips, clashing with the roar of the thunder. What was she doing to him? He should be grieving his father, not kissing her, not being with her friends, not giving a damn about her tears.

But he _did_ give a damn. Pretending made no difference. "Fuck…" Draco whispered to himself, "Now what?"


	24. Chapter 24: Experimental Treatment

**Chapter 24: Experimental Treatment**

Hermione opened her eyes. They still felt puffy. She'd cried herself to sleep. Sitting up, she rubbed them, then stood to get to the shower, gathering her things. It was early. Nearly sunrise, by the look of the sky overhead. The storm had cleared. Hermione shouldered her shower bag, heading out towards the kitchen.

Draco's silver eyes met hers immediately. She was his jaw tighten when he met her gaze. Her fingers grasped the strap of her bag tightly, recalling the sensation of his lips on hers. Her feet froze. Now what?

"...your translation is better than mine," Draco said quietly, ripping his eyes away from hers and back to the paper. She could see he wasn't actually reading it.

_Would you use me? Would you toy with me like that?_ She swallowed, feeling heat in her eyes again. She closed them tightly, pushing the fear away. _I'm so sick of crying. _"I don't remember you ever taking an ancient runes class," she opened her eyes to look at him again.

"I had a private tutor," Draco replied coolly, placing the paper down and folding his hands on the table in front of him. His eyes met hers again. The circles under his eyes were dark.

"Did you sleep?" she asked quietly. He shook his head no. Hermione slowly walked over to stand next to him. He didn't move. His posture reminded her of a snake before an attack, and she didn't want to make him lash out at her. _I'm not afraid. I'm not._

She was, but lying to herself made it easier to approach him again. What did she want? ...she couldn't say… but if she didn't try to bring it all up with him, then she'd never know. She took a deep breath as she sat on the table next to her notes.

"Hermione," his voice was very quiet, his hands tightened in front of him, "Not now…" Her breath expelled in a soft sigh. That tone she knew from any mouth. He was emotionally done. What had happened after she'd broken down last night? Why hadn't he slept? "I need to return to the Manor," Draco continued softly. "I need you to give me back my wand."

A flicker of fear ran through her chest. Her eyes saw his notebook, the three words burned over and over again. She held her breath. "...will you come back?"

"Not willingly," he responded honestly. "...but if you want me here, then I give you my word that I'll return."

"What happened last night?" His jaw was set. He wouldn't tell her. She gazed at him intensely. He was asking her to trust him… or was he trying to find out if she still wanted him here? "...I want you to come back." Slowly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bag. She pointed her own wand inside of it, summoning his up into her hand. Catching it, she slowly put it down in front of his closed hands. Before she could pull away, his hand caught hers tightly and his face turned up. He looked like he was bracing himself. His eyes held hers. The thoughts were jumbled, and incredibly fast, as though he were trying to share this before he lost his nerve.

_Draco felt a wave of cold dread wash over him. He slammed his fist against the door, snarling, "Don't you put that in her head, Weasley!" Draco felt all the air go out of his lungs. Why was Ron doing this? The words were like a knife, twisting in the center of Draco's chest. Draco felt gutted. What reason would she possibly have to give him a chance, when one of her best friends laid everything out like that? He brought his knee to an elbow and held his face in one hand, staring at the floor, feeling helpless. Potter drew his wand. Draco's blood turned to ice. He went rigid. Granger was giving his wand back tomorrow, damn it. He hated being unarmed and unable to protect himself. "Show me why I should trust you, Malfoy. What's changed? Why did you kiss her?" With a jolt, he felt Potter pulling at his memories. Draco's shields hadn't been up. He hadn't been prepared. He scrambled to correct his mistake... To find he couldn't do it. A sudden whirlwind of images. All of her. I don't know what I want… but I don't want to use you._

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest. She stared, unable to tear her eyes from his, breathless with relief. He didn't say a word, but he squeezed her hand before letting go. Draco stood, taking his wand, kissing her cheek silently, and walked out of the house. She stood, frozen as she watched him turn on the spot outside the house's barrier and vanish. Her cheek tingled slightly where he'd kissed her.

Mrs. Weasley appeared from the staircase. Hermione blushed slightly. Had she seen that? Had the entire house known what had happened last night? Mrs. Weasley's smile gave nothing away. "Good morning, Hermione! Pancakes today. I hope you're hungry!"

Hermione quickly waved her wand to gather all her things from the table, magicing them into her bag. She darted upstairs to shower and hide her reddening face. Why had he shown her that? It helped. Her nerves were far less frayed… but she knew he must've felt incredibly exposed, being that honest. How had Ron broken all of her sound barriers? Why had Harry gone in to Draco's mind? How come Draco hadn't been able to lock him out? Why did he kiss her cheek before leaving?

With a start, she recalled Healer Amy warning her. One sign of further degeneration was her own spells breaking. Her silencing charm hadn't been able to withstand Ron's anger… and that had never happened before. Was it more damage? Or was his rage beyond anything she'd seen until last night? The questions tumbled, but there were no answers. She needed to start a treatment plan immediately.

Her heart felt lighter, but her mind was heavy after showering and rushing downstairs to the breakfast. Ron's seat was empty. She frowned. Ron never missed a meal. Mrs. Weasley appeared to be trying to ignore it. When Ron came thundering down the stairs, he glared at Hermione in the kitchen before storming out the front door and slamming it so hard that the windows rattled. Skipping a meal? He must've been upset. When Mrs. Weasley didn't so much as bat an eye, Hermione knew that the crafty witch was fully aware of everything going on under her roof… in which case… she probably had already found a way to research the experimental treatments.

Hermione pulled out the old book, her notes and the file from the healers after breakfast. "Mrs. Weasley… Can I run a few things by you?"

She glanced at what Hermione had in front of her, and calmly undid her apron. It floated to a hook on the wall. The motherly witch sat down next to Hermione. She took the folder from St. Mungo's away from Hermione, setting it under her hands. "A few things, dear? Please. Don't you mean the one you've already set your mind on trying?"

Her voice was somewhat amused. She was looking at Hermione expectantly. Hermione smiled nervously. She had decided, hadn't she? That was a relief to realize. Her hand fell on Draco's book. "...the experimental treatment plans the Healers gave to me were rubbish. They've been proven more often to fail than succeed. I don't want to try something that I know will fail. I'd rather… take a calculated risk."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes flickered to the book under Hermione's hands. "...how much of a risk?"

"Nothing extreme," Hermione said honestly, "It's more a risk that it won't work, either… but the theory is promising. There are no records of results…" She bit her lip, looking down at the book, "And... I would have to convince Draco to help me. This is old magic, and from what I gather, a Malfoy has to be working on the project, or else it's guaranteed to fail. I don't really understand that part. I've never heard of magic like that."

Mrs. Weasley inhaled sharply, holding her breath. "...Hermione… do you realize what that boy gave you?"

Hermione froze. She hadn't heard that tone from Mrs. Weasley. It was awe, and it was disbelief, and respect, and shock. Her head shook no quickly. Mrs. Weasley ran both hands over her face, through her hair, and to the back of her neck, staring at the book. Her hands slowly came back down to the table. "...Hermione, pureblood families often have a secret branch of magic. It's passed down from generation to generation. We can guess what magical powers some families possess. Wealth, power, prestige… cooking." Her eyes glittered slightly, "...but it's kept within the family. No outsider is supposed to know about them. The fact that he handed that book to you… and let you read it..." her voice faded.

Another wave of relief crashed into her chest at those words. Hermione swallowed hard, fear also bubbling to the surface. Why would he do that? "I don't think that he realizes that, Molly… He wouldn't of given this to me if he thought it had to be a secret."

"Maybe so," she admitted quietly, "...but it is still something to think on, if your heart is still heavy because of my son's temper."

Hermione stared at her. Mrs. Weasley took both her hands, holding Hermione's and giving a gentle squeeze. Without another word, she stood, and began to bustle through the house with her morning chores. Slowly, Hermione lifted the book Draco had let her borrow, hugging it close to her chest. Her eyes closed and she put her chin on top of the book, processing the new information. _Please keep your promise… come back…_

She spent most of the day writing out calculations and lists of ingredients. The calculations were complex. Several pages were ripped to shreds and restarted. He'd probably already done all of this, but it wouldn't hurt to compare results. Mrs. Weasley interrupted her, forcing her to eat lunch, and then Hermione took her things to spread out through the living room when she'd been shooed from the kitchen. The ingredient lists were also complex, full of rare ingredients that she'd never used in potions. Where was she going to find those? Maybe Professor Slughorn would know...

Her mind wandered to Draco again. Would he be willing to give this a try? She wasn't sure… it made sense, though. They had everything they needed, including the wand that had done the original damage.

That had been a surprise. It was almost last in the list of notes she'd translated, as if it had almost been forgotten by the hand that penned it in. Maybe they thought that was supposed to be obvious. Hermione still had Bellatrix's wand. It was under her bed, sealed many times in an unbreakable box. On nights when Hermione feared the witch returning to torment her, she'd look at it. That wand reminded her that there was nothing left to fear. Molly Weasley had killed that witch, and she couldn't come back to torture any of them ever again.

Hermione sat forward, elbows on the low coffee table, rubbing her temples. She'd never seen anything this complex. The wand had to think it was casting the Crucio curse in order to work. How did you make a wand work without its master? Maybe she needed to write to Mr. Ollivander, or stop in the shop to ask him.

"You've been busy."

Hermione jumped at the voice in her ear. She turned quickly. Draco sat at her side. She hadn't heard him enter. He looked calmer now. Without thinking, she hugged him. His arms wrapped around her gently.

"You came back," she muttered quietly, more relief washing over her doubt.

"...I gave you my word, Granger." he responded and she felt his fingers brush through her hair.

She pulled away, gesturing to all the notes in the room. "...I want to try this. If it works on me… then we could use it to help your mother, and Neville's parents, too."

His eyes fixed on hers seriously. He slid a bag from his shoulder to the floor. A frown tugged at the corner of his lip. "Don't say that. I won't treat you like guinea pig."

"You won't be. I will be leading this experiment," she persisted stubbornly. "Draco, the other options won't work… this could. But it can't work without you. If you're not working on it, then the magic doesn't work… just, read over my notes… read over everything, if that'll convince you." She waved her wand and everything came rushing back to her hands. "I need to do something… the silencing charms all failed last night. I was warned… that the progression of damage could be my spells failing."

"You don't know that's why the charm broke," Draco spoke up quickly.

"You're right…. But they've never broken before... I'm afraid it could be true." Hermione pushed the book and file into his hands, "Take a look… see what you think… but I need to decide soon."

"Damn you!" his temper surprised her. His hands refused to take the file or the book. He was up on his feet suddenly, pacing in front of the table. "Didn't you hear me?!" She'd never seen him crack like this. "You're smart, Granger, why are you making me spell things out for you? Is this revenge? Is this because I made you say it again? Did you want to hear me say it that badly? Fine! I don't know what I want… but I don't want to use you!"

She was floored. Where was this coming from? He'd been so calm and collected just a moment ago. Why was he so upset? "No!" she protested, standing quickly, reaching a hand out for his arm. He put both hands up, backing away from her. She let him retreat this time, lowering her hand. "Draco… I have to pick something. I don't want to try the other treatments… they all failed Neville's parents… this one looks hopeful. I'm not asking you to use me. I'm asking you to help me."

"Hermione, I'd just be proving that Weasel right if I let you do this." Draco growled, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to regain control over his temper. "He'd find out you're trying this thing, that I would use to heal my mother. You'd be making yourself a potential failed experiment. What happens if the calculations are wrong? What happens if it causes irreversible damage?"

"Why did you let me borrow the book, if you didn't expect me to want to use it?" she snapped in irritation.

"Because you wanted it," he confessed quietly. "...that's all, Granger. I hadn't even finished translating it when I gave it to you… I didn't know for certain that there was anything that could work in there."

She sat down on the couch, his honesty surprising her. "Well… I did, and I do think that this could work. It's more convincing than any of the other options the Healers gave me… and… I don't want to end up helpless." His body softened. She shoved the book, notes and files to him "Please… I want this. I can't do it without you."

His hands slowly fell to his sides. "You keep asking me to do things I don't want to do. This isn't fair, Granger." His voice was tired, "...I'll read everything tonight."

He was right about that. She had been pushing him, and it wasn't fair. She knew it, but that didn't stop her. Her mouth spoke before her brain had a chance to think. "How can I make it even?"

His eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected that. She hadn't, either. He took a few steps back towards her. "Bargaining? A Gryffindor… Merlin's beard, Granger. Maybe I am rubbing off on you…" He sat next to her again, staring her hard in the face. "...fly with me."

Her heart jumped in her throat and her stomach did a somersault just thinking about that. "Draco, that's not fair. I'm afraid of heights."

"Perfectly fair," he replied crisply. "You don't want to do it. Maybe remembering how that feels will make you stop doing it to me."


	25. Chapter 25: Calculations

**Chapter 25: Calculations**

He'd read over her notes, her calculations, her translations several times now. The files from the Healers theoretically looked good on paper, but there had been no positive results in any of their trials. Something must've been missing from those options. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that what he saw was straight forward. A decision was easy to make, with all of this laid out on the table in front of him. That book did yield the most promising possibility of success. He sat forward on the table, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly.

She was right. Not really that surprising, considering her brain. But, he didn't like it.

He opened his eyes, resting his head on his hand while picking up one piece of paper. The bit about the wand just confounded him, as he knew nothing about how to make a wand work the way this described. It had to cast the spell from memory- an actual replication of the magic it had done, not just a shadow. How was that possible? Then, there was the timing factor.

He put that page down to lift another. It appeared there were two versions of the potion possible. One was a daily draft, to stop damage from progressing any further. He'd calculated that already on his own. That version seemed minimal in risk. It was almost like a charm-induced coma, but it was a potion that only halted the damage, and let the drinker function normally. Very practical and clever. It was also a general potion, not unique to the drinker. None of the ingredients were dangerous, merely expensive and rare. That wasn't a problem. He could have that started within a few hours. It didn't take long to brew, either. Just a month. That wasn't unreasonable for a potion with that kind of effect.

Draco put that aside and lifted another page, putting it down in front of him. He sat forward, holding his head in both hands, staring down at the second page of calculations.

For healing- true, actual healing, the potion had to be brewed in time equal to at least half the amount of time the damage had existed. For Granger, the timing was going on a minimum of a year. For his mother, that was only going on a few weeks. For Longbottom's parents… he had no idea. But, as it was brewing, more time needed to be added, didn't it? The math there made him frown. Would they need some kind of time-alteration to do this? The ministry strictly regulated things like that. Additionally, some of those potion ingredients could poison if they didn't react properly with the other ingredients.

It made more sense to use his mother as a test subject, and if it worked… the thought of using his own mother made his skin crawl. In terms of time, for the sake of understanding the method, it made more sense to start there. However, he didn't have his father's wand. That was the only thing holding him back. They could get everything they needed for Hermione's potion, she had told him about Bellatrix's wand… that thought made his skin crawl, too. There was no good option here. He pressed his palms against his face, exhaling heavily in irritation.

"...hey." His head snapped up. Ginny Weasley stood there, arms folded across her chest, leaning against the doorway, eyes unreadable. He sat up straight, frowning slightly. "Walk with me."

She turned towards the front door and was gone. Draco hesitated a moment before slowly gathering all the papers back into a pile with a wave of his wand. He didn't plan on giving that back to Granger, no matter what she wanted. Potter would be blasted across the house if he dared to attempt another break-in to Draco's mind. Weasley wasn't going to raise a wand at him while he remained defenseless ever again.

Ginny strode out towards the hill they'd been on, the night they had demolished the bottle of Firewhiskey. It was dark, the clouds hiding most of the stars overhead. The moon occasionally broke through to light the night. Shadows twisted along the ground. She led him to a tree, just over the hill, just beyond the sight of the Burrow. The woman stopped and leaned against it, crossing her arms just as she had in the kitchen. "Why here?" He asked quietly.

"You might've noticed that my family can be a bunch of nosy goblins." Ginny remarked dryly. "...The twins and I are the only ones that ever come here. Plus… I didn't want Hermione to hear me."

He was silent as he walked next to her, leaning against the tree, hands in his pockets.

"Do you know why she cried like that?" Ginny asked quietly, looking out over the village below. Few lights were glittering in the darkness.

"She fought with your brother," he replied simply, "I assumed it was because of that."

"I thought so too," Ginny admitted, then she pulled two wands out of her pocket. "Lumos." The light came alive at one wand. The other remained dark. Ginny extinguished the light, and handed both to him. "Try it."

Confused, Draco accepted the wands. "Lumos." The wand that had lit for Ginny remained dark. That wand felt wrong in his fingers. The other felt like part of his arm. Light immediately shimmered, bright and clear. He frowned, not getting why they were doing this, but he flicked his wrist with a silent _Nox, _and handed both back to her. "I don't understand."

"Me neither." Ginny confessed. She held up the wand he hadn't been able to light. "This is mine. Do you know whose wand this is?" Her hand held the wand that hadn't worked for her, but had worked for Draco.

His stomach flipped as he actually examined it. He didn't know, but now he had a suspicion. "...is that Granger's?"

Ginny nodded slowly. She pocketed both wands, facing him now. "...Ollivander always said that the wand chooses the wizard. Hermione's wand doesn't work for me. Harry can sort of make it work, and it doesn't work at all for Ron… I couldn't stop her bleeding last night… but you managed to heal her hand, without the slightest problem."

Draco didn't know what to say. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Hermione was crying because of Ron being an idiot. Then, she snapped when her wand answered to you," Ginny said, eyes reading his face.

That might as well have been a punch to the gut. She'd cried like that because her wand had worked for him? Why did that matter? Why did it make him feel guilty? Why did it also make his heart pound in his chest? What did that mean? "Weaslette," he growled, the flood of sensation grating his nerves. "What are you trying to get at here? Spit it out."

"That's it," Ginny replied calmly, turning to walk away.

"That's it?" He stared after her. That didn't make sense. Why would she want him to know about that? What difference did it make?

Ginny turned to look at him. That look pinned him to the spot. It reminded him of Mrs. Weasley, staring him down in the kitchen to declare his love of tomato soup. She nodded firmly, looking pleased with herself, and marched back up over the hill.

Draco stayed there, mulling that over in his head for a while. It felt good to be alone here. It was also a strange kind of relief, to know that even after Ron had spat all that doubt at her, that her wand had not resisted him in the slightest. He hadn't thought about that. It was as easy to use as his own wand. That wasn't normal. Draco recalled when he'd been forced to use his mother's wand. Even that had felt awkward in his fingers. Why did Hermione's wand feel comfortable? What did that mean? Did it mean anything? Or was Ollivander's crazy saying just the rambling of a strange man?

He was tired. The sensation snuck up on him again like it had a few days ago. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree. Did he have the energy to walk back to the Burrow? No. He flicked his wand, summoning one of those brooms from the other night. The broom met him and he flew back to the house, feeling heavy as he walked across the kitchen towards his room.

George was awake. He watched Draco drag himself to bed, and lay down on his back, fully clothed, shoes on. His head touched the bed and he was asleep before the broomstick slid out of his hand to the floor.

He woke to the smell of bacon and eggs. His stomach grumbled at him. Now he was hungry? He stretched, sitting up slowly. The broomstick had been propped up next to his bed. His shoes were untied, sitting on the floor next to the door. Who had done that?

Draco changed, magicing his teeth brushed, thankful again for the simplicity of having his wand back. Most of the Weasley's were at the table, chittering and eating happily. Ron's seat was still empty. That was fine by him. Mrs. Weasley greeted him with a smile and waved her wand. His seat, across from Hermione, had a plate of too much food and a cup of tea waiting for him. He spoke his thanks quietly, sitting to join the meal.

He wasn't used to this, either. Meals with his family were always proper, and polite, and quiet. Words were often few, and to the point. This table never seemed to lack laughter or conversation. Occasionally, George and Ginny would fling food at each other behind their mother's back. Mr. Weasley was engaged with everyone, no newspaper in hand, no checking of the clock to rush out the door on time, relaxed and laughing along with the rest of them.

It was a strange difference. Draco thought of his father, reading the newspaper at breakfast, the last time he'd seen him alive. His appetite was gone. He gently pushed the plate away, the smell suddenly making him incredibly nauseous. The thought of moving almost made him sick, right there at the table. Mrs. Weasley bent down over his shoulder for a moment to swat at Ginny with her dishtowel, and he saw a very small tonic sitting behind his teacup when she pulled away. How had she known?

She bustled away, making a fuss at her husband. Everyone looked towards Arthur, suddenly roaring with laughter. Draco flicked his wand. The small tonic rose, opening, poured into his tea and the empty vial came to his pocket. He took a sip of the tea, feeling his stomach settle. Her eye caught his for a moment as she turned back towards the stove. She winked. No one else saw that. He nodded just slightly. This didn't seem like the kind of thing a Weasley would do. Subtlety wasn't their speciality. Had Aunt Andromeda told her things about his family? That had to be it. There was no other explanation.

Though he had slept, he felt drained. If he were going to brew potions later, then he needed energy today. He had to eat, and he knew it. Draco sipped at his tea until his stomach felt normal again. Mentally, he boxed any thoughts of his family from his mind. He picked up half a bagel on his plate, biting into it hesitatingly. The bread stayed. He ate some of the eggs, feeling okay with that as well. He didn't dare risk the meats on his plate. While the tonic was known to settle the stomach, there was no guarantee it would last long.

Soon, the house was empty. Mrs. Weasley had taken Ginny off to do some shopping. The others had all gone to work. And he and Hermione sat at the kitchen table, the file, book and notes between them. His thoughts wandered back to her wand, back to the conversation with Ginny. He didn't want to think about that right now.

"...I'll do it," Draco said quietly, "...but you can't be the first test subject. It has to be my mother." She opened her mouth to argue, but his eyes flashed at her and she paused. "One year, Granger. I'm not willing to put in the effort to a potion that we don't know will work for that long. My mother… her potion would only take a few weeks, at best. I just need to find my Father's wand. I still don't understand the time requirement." He stared at the table. "...I can start the daily draft today. That's safe for any of you. I need to do this at the Manor, though. I can't focus here. There are too many people."

For a moment, he thought that she was going to argue with him. Working here would rip his sanity to shreds, and they would really fight if she refused to listen to him. He was too emotional in this place, and that was the last thing he needed to be when attempting to brew complicated potions. She nodded slowly… but he could see she wanted something. He was getting familiar with that look. He saw her chew her lip, struggling with her next words. "...can I come with you?"

_She wants to come with you._ That strange flutter in his chest caught him off guard. _But she doesn't want to force it on you… _She actually had listened when he'd told her he didn't like being asked to do things he didn't want to do. He had wanted to be alone. His plan was to start the draft, and enjoy the solitude of the Manor. But now… she was asking to come, instead of telling him she was coming… that made a difference. After a long moment of hesitation, he slowly nodded.


	26. Chapter 26: Diagon Alley

**Chapter 26: Diagon Alley**

Hermione grinned at the back of his head as they approached the Apothecary. He looked absolutely ridiculous in that hat, with those big, bug eyed sunglasses. She had burst out laughing back at the Burrow, and his lip was still pulled down into a slight frown from that. When she'd tried to take it off him, he'd told her to keep her hands to herself. She wiped the smile off her face as he held the door open for her to pass first.

Being here was stressing him out. She could see it. He didn't like being out in the open. _How very snake-like_. The thought struck her as she saw his eyes surveying everything around them cautiously as she entered.

The shopkeepers beamed at her when she came in. They began murmuring to themselves excitedly. Hermione picked up a basket, hooking it on her arm and pulling out her list. Draco charmed his basket into the air, then eyed the one hanging off her arm curiously. "Some of these things are heavy, Granger… don't forget the feather light charm on that basket like you did your bag all those years."

She frowned. He smirked, turning away with the other list of ingredients. Hermione looked down at the basket… why hadn't she charmed her bag at Hogwarts? Now that he mentioned it, it seemed incredibly foolish. She couldn't count the number of times she'd struggled to lift her massive bag of books, let alone carry it. Blushing slightly, she flicked her wand to cast the charm and walked to the far side of the store, waving her wand at shelves as she found the things she needed.

It was quiet. She could hear a few cauldrons bubbling, and the strange smells of this place never seemed to fade. There were jars of strange looking things, barrels full of glittering ingredients, and cauldrons set up on tables all around the room. The first quarter of an hour passed easily, because she knew where to look for things. Glancing down her list, she saw she had about half the ingredients so far. She might have to ask for help finding the rest of these. Her eyes caught Draco across the room. Another grin split her lips. He looked utterly ridiculous. Why had he insisted on wearing that getup? Draco hated making himself a fool.

Hermione's arm gave a sudden lurch. She gasped, falling to the floor, both hands in front to catch herself. The basket slammed against the stone floor, and the ingredients flew out, bottles cracking open, contents spilling over her hands. The skin began to bubble and hiss angrily. She cried out in pain, trying to shake some of it off. Tears of pain pricked her eyes.

"What happened?" The shopkeeper called in alarm. She heard feet rushing towards her. Draco made it there first. He held her forearms in his hands, turning her palms up so the mess slid to the floor instead of sliding down into her palms. His eyes glanced at the tall walls, lined with drawers of ingredients. When he raised his head to look at the nearby shelves, his hat fell off. He ripped off the sunglasses impatiently, then found what he wanted. His wand waved and a small bottle floated down to fill a nearby bowl. With a few quick flicks of his wand, a chair came out behind her. Ingredients began to pull out from drawers and shelves across the room to the cauldron at his right, where a fire began. The hand still holding her forearm guided her gently into the chair.

Hermione sighed in relief as he placed her hands into the bowl of Murtlap Essence. "What happened?" he asked quietly, turning his attention to the potion he'd begun.

"The feather light charm…. Failed." she said the last word very softly. "It… broke… and the basket was too heavy." She felt a lump in her throat but she swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. His silver eyes caught hers, his hand fell on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

There was no way she could deny it, this time. The damage was getting worse.

The shopkeepers were in a fluster at the sight of Hermione's hands. One quickly charmed away the bubbling mess of broken vials and ingredients near her feet, apologizing non-stop. Another examined the potion Draco was brewing, then nodded, looking impressed at the concoction. He grinned and looked up to say something, then froze, smile vanishing. The other wizard noticed and tensed in a similar fashion.

Draco didn't look up from the potion as he handed a list to each of them. "I need these ingredients. Gather them and bill everything to the Malfoy family, including the cost of things that were broken here, and what I'm using now. I'll take the cauldron as well."

The two wizards continued staring, dumbfounded, then one turned to Hermione, speaking very softly in her ear so Draco couldn't hear. "Miss Granger… are you in distress? Do you need assistance?"

She quickly shook her head no. "What? No! I mean, aside from my hands, I'm fine!" She nodded her head at the lists in their hands. "I need those ingredients. It's for an experiment Draco is helping me conduct."

Both shopkeepers looked at each other slowly, but they didn't argue anymore. Draco ignored both of them completely, focused on the potion in front of him. They hurriedly gathered the ingredients, bagged them, and watched from a distance. Their excited murmurs had become soft, low muttering. Draco took her hands from the Murtlap. She hissed softly in pain as he coated her hands in the strange blue potion. Then, it changed to the color of her skin. It felt like she was wearing soft, cooling gloves on her hands. Draco sealed the rest of the potion into a vial he pulled from his pocket.

He took the bag from the counter, and opened the door for her again. Hermione stepped outside, and then he held his arm to her. She put her arm in his without thinking, still worrying about the broken charm, and they started to walk. The motion was so natural that after several steps she stopped for a moment, surprised. His feet stilled and he looked at her. Pureblood manners? She'd never experienced this.

"Thank you," she muttered quietly. He didn't say anything, merely gave her arm the gentlest of squeezes with his.

As they moved, she noticed people staring at them. Now she understood. Draco hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself by being in Diagon Alley. He especially didn't want to point out that he and Hermione were there together. That had failed. Walking arm in arm, side by side got many double takes as they passed. They paused at a bench so she could draw her wand to shrink the packages into the bag in her pocket.

Her hands were tingling softly inside the strange gloves as she worked. "What is this?" She stretched one hand out in front of her, turning it over slowly.

"It's an accelerated healing potion, restoring the skin of your hands."

"...I've never seen anyone make potions like that." she frowned at him slightly, irritated that she now knew that her potion skills were nowhere near comparison against his. "Why weren't you the top of the class?"

"I never wanted to be top of the class," he replied dryly. His voice lowered as they approached the next shop. "Granger… I don't think this is a good idea. Can we get some tea and discuss this some more?"

Hermione merely took his arm again, pulling him gently. Mr. Ollivander wouldn't hurt Draco. She was convinced of that.

Maybe she should've listened to him.

The bell dinged in the small, dark shop. Hermione saw those strange eyes from behind a shelf, high on a ladder. At first, he looked pleased. Then, his eyes darkened. She'd never seen a look like that. She saw his arm move between shelves of wands. Ollivander raised his wand, and Draco's back slammed to the door. Draco put both hands to his throat, she could hear him choking.

"Mr. Ollivander, no!"

The elderly man didn't even seem to see her anymore. He raised his wand again. Hermione cast a shield charm. She cried out when his spell caught her in the shoulder, ripping open her sleeve. Blood trickled down her arm. The force sent her stumbling backwards into Draco. Mr. Ollivander raised his wand again. Trembling, Hermione lifted her wand to try the shield charm again. Draco's hand caught hers, his fingers reaching her wand. They moved together. The force of the shield charm sent Mr. Ollivander toppling from the ladder, and several shelves slammed to the floor.

Draco was released, he slid off the door, she let him take her wand, both hands over her mouth, panicking. Was Mr. Ollivander being crushed under one of those shelves?

Before another heartbeat, the shelves began to float back into place. A familiar voice spoke softly, "Oh Mr. Ollivander… I told you to guard your temper today."

"You could've been less cryptic about that, sweet child."

Luna Lovegood walked out with Mr. Ollivander. The man's face was now strangely blank as he looked at them. Hermione winced and hissed between her teeth when her shoulder throbbed. Draco lightly touched her wand to the wound, healing it. The sleeve of her shoulder barely held together.

Mr. Ollivander didn't take his eyes off of them. "You were early," Luna complained, looking to Draco, "Why didn't you take her for tea first?"

Both Hermione and Draco tensed. How did Luna always know such odd little details? The silence was uncomfortable. Draco shattered it. "She declined."

"Oh? Already there?" Luna beamed at them both, "Brilliant!"

Hermione couldn't do this. Two charms failing? Her nerves were shot. She turned to Draco. "I want to go."

"Wait," Luna spoke, "Hermione-."

"I want to go," she repeated to Draco, holding his eyes seriously. "...You were right, I'm sorry. We shouldn't of come here like this."

"The shield charm is blocking the door." Draco gently pressed her wand into her hands, speaking quietly. "...and I can't break this one. We are stuck here right now."

Hermione turned angrily, flicking her wand, trying to break the charm. It wasn't working for her, either. She huffed in irritation.

"Miss Granger," the clear voice of Mr. Ollivander was strong and steady, "How long has your wand been working in that man's hands?"

Panic burst in her chest just at the question. Hermione stiffened, glancing over at Mr. Ollivander. His eyes were still very strange. She'd never seen him look at anything like that. "That's none of your business." Mr. Ollivander's eyes turned to hers, then glanced to her torn shirt shoulder. His gaze softened, saddened. He seemed to debate something for a moment, then spoke again.

"You cast that charm, together." His eyes flickered to Draco momentarily before meeting hers again, "It will only break... together."

Hermione turned to look at Draco. He met her gaze. Slowly, he approached her, his hand reaching to her wand as before. His fingers wrapped around hers and they silently flicked the wand together. The shield charm broke.

"Fascinating…" Mr. Ollivander whispered from the counter.

Hermione turned away, pocketing her wand, marching straight to the door.

"Why did you come here today, Miss Granger?" Ollivander spoke softly, "And why… did you bring this companion with you?"

"I want to go," Hermione repeated very quietly, grasping the doorknob. "Draco, please." Without another word, she pulled open the door. He followed.


	27. Chapter 27: Home

**Chapter 27: Home**

Draco followed cautiously. Hermione turned to him after she had taken a few steps from the shop. "Do we have everything for the basic draft?" She snapped irritably, not at him, he knew. He nodded silently. "Then let's get out of here."

He had already told her that she would have to side along apparate to the Manor, because the security measures he had put in place would not let her in alone. She took his arm again, holding tightly. Putting his hand in his pocket, he held his wand and turned on the spot. At the last moment, he changed directions to enter the Manor from the garden instead of the main entrance. He wasn't sure if she would panic at the sight of the gates, and the door to the demolished room was still wide open.

She was startled by the damn peacock as it cried at their appearance. He felt her jump, holding his arm tightly for a moment. Draco couldn't help it. "Granger, are you serious?" He laughed. "You don't so much as flinch when Ollivander attacks, but a bird?" Gryffindor courage would never make sense to him.

Hermione smiled at him, playfully shoving him away. "It's good to be away from there." She looked sad suddenly, crossing her arms over her chest. "…I really am sorry that I didn't listen..."

"It's done," he replied easily. He'd known that Ollivander wasn't going to be pleased to see him. The fact that he'd left with all of his bones in tact was good news. The fact that her charms had failed twice back to back was much more of a concern. She was rattled. If he were honest with himself, he was too. Draco walked towards the Manor, the doors opening for him into the library. He refused to look up the tall staircase, where his family had eaten their last meal, where his parents had…

He boxed it up and locked it. He couldn't think about that now.

Hermione followed him. It felt a little strange to hear footsteps aside from his own in this wing of the Manor. With a strange start, he realized the only way to the potion laboratory was through his bedroom. No one outside of his family had ever set foot in that room. It felt… well, he didn't know the word. It felt like she was too close. Feigning confidence, he pushed open the door to his bedroom. He heard her gasp of surprise.

Tall, open windows around the room had lush, dark green curtains pulled to the side. Light floated through the room, shifting as lace curtains danced softly in the breeze. The fire was crackling happily in the fireplace. One of the new house elves must have lit it when he returned to the house. There were two tall armchairs by the fire, a low table covered with a few piles of books, and a long leather couch. Bookshelves lined the entire room. He had been tempted to charm them to the ceiling when he was younger, but his mother had forbade it. The tall four poster bed had sheer curtains pulled to the four corners of the bed. A dark green quilt covered the bed, with the Malfoy family crest embroidered in silver and black. The pillows were in dark silver pillowcases.

Intimate. The word came to him. He couldn't tell her this was his room. It felt too intimate. So, he did what he always did when he was uncomfortable. He lied. "This is the guest room. I thought you might need a moment to process what just happened."

He had made the right choice, entering from the garden. It looked like a panic attack was sneaking up on her. She closed her eyes, clenching her fists, trying to resist. He took her elbow, lightly tugging her to the couch, sitting her down. Then, he drew out his wand, the calming draft and the tea. He was surprised when she took the cup, and threw it at the fire. Draco went still. What was going on?

"How could Mr. Ollivander act that way?" she stood, on her feet and pacing in front of the fire angrily.

"...Granger-"

"And those shopkeepers- why did they look at you like that?" She waved her arm in the air in disgust. "It's not like it was your fault that the basket dropped. They should've been upset with me!"

"It's-"

"They don't know anything about you! I swear I'm going to write to their management."

He grinned slightly. She kept talking, but he stopped listening. Of course, she would write a letter. That sounded like something she would do. But how had this been a surprise? How hadn't she expected this? Something felt off. Draco stood, and took her by both elbows gently to stop her pacing, "Granger… think about my family's history… how are you surprised by this?"

She stared at him. And blinked. That strange face he'd seen on hers, but not for a month or so. Draco had a sudden realization. It felt like a slap to the back of his head. "Hermione," he spoke sharply now, "Have you stopped the maintenance treatment your Healer put you on?" Her eyes widened as she connected the dots. Draco frowned. "Why weren't you notified that you were missing appointments? This isn't something they would-"

A tap on the balcony door distracted him. An owl hovered there. Draco waved his wand and the door flew open. A letter fell to her feet, and then the bird swooped from sight. Hermione knelt to pick it up quickly, pulling it open. He read over her shoulder.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_The "email" method of contact you requested has failed. I have not been able to contact you for several days now. You have missed multiple appointments. Please return to St. Mungo's immediately to resume your treatment. I urge you to come as soon as possible, before any abnormal symptoms return. _

_Healer Amy_

Draco took her forearm in one hand, and a handful of Floo Powder in the other. He threw it into the fire, calling out St. Mungo's. They appeared at the in-patient room. No one so much as glanced in their direction as they moved towards the diagnostic ward. Draco felt angry. He didn't have a right to be angry. She hadn't missed her treatments on purpose. Why was he angry?

"Let go." He released her immediately, feet sticking to the ground. Hermione looked slightly green. Internally, he smacked his forehead. She was muggle-born. Floo powder travel was probably something she hadn't done often enough to feel comfortable. She probably apparated everywhere. It didn't help that his family was on an express network that moved faster than other fireplaces.

Sure enough, she sunk quickly to the floor, holding her head in one hand. He caught her, sitting her down in a chair. "Give me a minute… Floo has never felt like that…"

She raised her wand and bag, sticking it inside to summon a vial. He recognized it as something to settle the stomach. She drank it straight. He grimaced. That stuff tasted terrible unless you diluted it. Her face told him she agreed. Hermione exhaled heavily, putting the vial back in her small bag. Her color returned. They walked together down the hall, pausing outside of the closed ward and the diagnostic rooms. Hermione's treatments had been there for the past month or so. "I'll be with my Mother, when you're done." She nodded, disappearing from sight. Draco turned, entering the closed ward.

He hadn't been here for a little while. Guilt twisted in his stomach at that. His mother appeared to be sleeping. Someone had changed her white patient gown for a black one. He frowned. Did they tell her Lucius had died? Or had someone put her in it out of respect for the customs of their family? Silently, he approached her bed, sitting down. His mother's eyes opened and she sat up. Why did she always do that? Draco pulled the chair closer to her bed, putting a hand on hers.

For a long time, he sat there, mind blank. Eventually, he started trying to think of what to say. Should he apologize for not coming sooner? She wouldn't understand that. Should he try to show her any memories of anything that happened over the past few days? He'd tried that at first, but it hadn't worked. Breaking into her mind wasn't possible in this state. Plus, how would she react to Aunt Andromeda? He didn't know. Risking angering her in this state seemed dangerous. Could she even feel angry? Too many unknowns. Maybe it was safest to keep it simple. What about reading to her? He didn't have the book today. It was at the Burrow, in his bag. Maybe he should summon it. He wondered if there had been any new observations recently. He lifted the clipboard on the side table, seeing an untidy scrawl of observations.

_At the time of the death of Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy's gown changed from white to black. Her behaviors remain the same. Changing the color back has no effect. Changing into new clothes does nothing, as they immediately return them to black. This, and evidence with her son, lead us to conclude that the Malfoy or Black family holds a rare enchantment for their nuclear family. We believe she is aware of her husband's death. Unable to prove this theory. Furthermore..._

Draco slowly lowered the clipboard. He tightened his hand on hers, placing the chart down. How could she know? How was that possible? "I wonder if you really can hear me, Mother." Draco muttered quietly. "...I'll fix this. I just need to find Father's wand… and I can fix this…"

The drawer next to him burst open with green and silver sparks. Draco let go of her hand quickly, surprised. He looked inside the drawer. Two wands were sitting there. His mother's… and his father's… but how?

Draco leaned over the chart hurriedly, reading more.

_Unable to prove this theory. Furthermore… The wand of Lucius Malfoy came to Narcissa Malfoy after his death. This provides strong supporting evidence of a rare enchantment. Possibly through Marriage?_

He didn't understand, but that didn't matter. He had the wand now. Quickly, he took his Father's wand in his hand, pushing the drawer shut. Draco turned his eyes back to his mother. She was still there. Maybe she couldn't interact with him, but he could fix this. Standing, leaning over the bed, he put his hand on hers again and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Mother. I promise, I'll figure out how to bring you back."

When he moved back, he saw Hermione standing there, a soft expression on her face. What was that look? He didn't know it. A smile burst from his lips as he raised the wand, striding over to her quickly. She put both hands to her mouth in surprise, eyes going wide. "That's- but how?! Oh Draco, that's excellent!" Hermione's arms wrapped around his chest and squeezed excitedly. She looked up at him with sparkling, clear eyes. Draco felt a sudden flush in his cheeks. He wanted to kiss her.

He would've, if Neville Longbottom had not come striding into the room at that moment. The man's eyes widened when he saw the way Draco was looking down at Hermione.

Hermione quickly pulled away, suddenly beginning to chatter, oblivious to their audience. "Now there were only a few ingredients that we couldn't find at the Apothecary. You said you needed to write someone for them? And the wand… I'll have to get in touch with Mr. Ollivander. Maybe I'll send him an owl when we get back… surprising him wasn't good today. Yes, that would be smart. Oh! Hello Neville!" Hermione finally took a breath. "How are you?"

Neville looked bewildered. "I'm… good… you?"

"Excellent!" Hermione beamed at him, "I've got to go. See you soon!" With that, she took Draco by the hand and pulled him out the doors. Neville's confused face split into a bemused grin at that. He shook his head, waving farewell as he turned to tend to the plants in the ward.

Soon, they were back in his bedroom, sitting on the couch and writing their letters. He'd pulled out parchment and quills. She was just finishing her letter to Mr. Ollivander, requesting a meeting with him, as he continued to fill out a set of order forms for the last few ingredients he would need for the potion for his mother.

He whistled to summon an owl for her letter. Calypso fluttered into the room, mostly black, with intense orange eyes. He loved that owl. She fluttered to his lap to press her face against his cheek affectionately before hopping over to Hermione. He heard her giggle at the cute gesture.

Hermione attached the letter to the owl and stroked its face gently. Calypso gave a musical hoot of happiness before lifting her wings to fly out from the balcony. Draco continued filling out the forms, feeling energized. He hadn't felt alive like this in a long while. Potions were his speciality. Even if it was complicated, he was confident he could do it. With Granger's calculations, and his ability, it had to work. It would.

She laughed aloud, and he heard the soft sound of a body landing on a bed. All the air went out of his lungs in a soft whoosh and he closed his eyes as she gave a sigh of pleasure. "Gods, Draco, if this is the guest room, I can't imagine what the beds feel like in the rest of the house."

His heart was fluttering again. _Don't turn around. Don't turn around. Don't… damn…_

Draco turned around, placing the quill down slowly, eyes devouring the sight with hunger. She was on her back, shuffling backwards to reach the silver pillows. Her hand took one and tucked it under her head with another sigh, hands together, arms above her head. One knee was up, and one leg was relaxed. An intense image of snaking over her body, pushing that knee down, pinning her wrists, and claiming her lips played out in his mind. He tore his eyes away from her body.

"Have you ever laid on this bed?" She asked, "I could sleep here forever."

_I'm the only one that's ever laid in that bed… until now…_ Draco closed his eyes again, trying to calm his mind. He could see himself, trailing kisses down her neck, biting into the soft flesh there and the soft sound of pleasure escaping her lips. Why had he thought it was a good idea to bring her here?

"Get up, Granger, we're not here to sleep." he said gruffly, unable to resist the urge to turn around again.

"Nope, you're gonna have to drag me," she responded happily, wiggling further into the bed. "Too comfy."

Something in him snapped. He stood, and before he knew what he was doing, he was standing at the bedpost, about to play out his fantasy. A loud crack was the only thing that stopped him.

"Would Missus be wanting a contraceptive potion first?"


	28. Chapter 28: Draco's Bedroom

**Chapter 28: Draco's Bedroom**

Hermione's eyes snapped open, locking to the house elf in astonishment. She couldn't have heard correctly. Her jaw dropped. "...Excuse me?"

"Master Draco isn't to be fathering bastard children," the house elf continued in a high voice. It was an older house elf. The lines and bags around her eyes reminded her of Kreacher. She held up a small vial, hopping up on to the bed next to Hermione, "Any woman he brings to his bed is supposed to be taking the contraceptive potion, before he joins her." The house elf took Hermione's jaw with a firm but gentle grip and poured the vial in her mouth before she could stop her, closing her mouth and trailing one long finger on Hermione's throat. She swallowed. "Excusing my lateness, Missus. Master Draco has never brought a woman to his room before, and I wasn't certain what it meant until just a few moments ago. Pardon the interruption." With another loud crack, the house elf vanished.

For a moment, Hermione sat there, dumbstruck. Then her eyes snapped to Draco's. He looked half mortified, half bemused. What in the hell had just happened? She sat up suddenly, flushing red with embarrassment, both hands pressing hard into the bed behind her. "What did she mean, your bed? Draco! You said this was a guest room."

Draco started to laugh. He held onto the bedpost, strangely pale and flushed. "I lied." he choked. "Damn it, Granger, I didn't think you would plop yourself down on my bed!"

"Why did you lie?" she snapped irritably, "I wouldn't have done it, if I'd known it was your room!"

He couldn't answer. He was nearly crying with laughter now, his entire body shaking. She huffed and fell back on the bed, crossing her arms over her chest and drawing her knees together. Draco seemed to be having trouble pulling himself together. He snickered, waving his hand at her. "Come on, get up."

"No," she snapped.

The laughter faded. His silver eyes caught hers and he frowned slightly. His expression was somewhat masked again. He appeared to struggle with something. At least he'd stopped laughing at her. "...seriously, Granger-"

"Make me," she snapped irritably, frowning back at him.

His eyes shifted. She felt his weight on the edge of the bed, and his hand on one of her knees. Her breath caught. "See…" he muttered, pushing her knees open, silver eyes locked to her face, crawling over her, "It's not a good idea to say something like that…" his body pressed between her legs, she felt his hands slide to her firmly crossed arms and rip them apart, "...when you're laying there…" he pinned her wrists above her head, "...in _my_ bed…" his voice died to a whisper as his face drew closer to hers, "...Hermione…"

His lips pressed to hers softly. Her eyes closed and her heart hammered in her chest. A slow heat wove from her fingers to her toes. She bit his lip, and he pulled away sharply. His entire body went rigid. He was breathing shallowly, the heat from his eyes burning a hole in her body. "...does that mean stop?" he breathed.

"No," she growled, "That was for lying to me."

He crushed his lips to hers this time, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Her hands balled into fists. His fingers tightened around her wrists. Was she shaking? Or was that him? His mouth left hers, and she felt his soft lips trailing across her cheek and then his hot tongue down her neck. His teeth barely nipped at her shoulder. She shivered softly. "More," she muttered. When he obeyed, teeth digging into her harder, she cried out, arching her body into his.

Suddenly, he stopped, pressing his forehead to her neck and shoulder. She lay there, nearly panting, staring up at the ceiling, closing her eyes, swallowing hard. "This isn't smart," Draco murmured softly, the grasp on her hands relaxing, his thumbs stroking the inside of her wrist gently. That felt surprisingly good. "C'mon, you're supposed to be the good one. Tell me to get off of you." His lips pressed against the rapid pulse in her neck. "...tell me to stop." he whispered.

She didn't want to stop. Hermione felt a sudden rush of excitement. She hooked one leg around him and flipped him over, circling her wrists so she pinned him down instead. It wasn't a smooth motion by any means. He hadn't been prepared for that. His silver eyes were wide with shock. His cheeks were flushed with desire. Her hair cascaded over both of them. "Maybe I'm tired of being the good one."

Then she went for his neck. When her lips touched him, she felt his entire body tense. As her tongue traced a throbbing vein in his neck, the wrists in her hands suddenly flexed hard. And when she bit him, he groaned with pleasure, ripping his hands free and pulling her face back up to him, meeting her lips hungrily. Something hard was pressing into her thigh. With a rush of heated realization, she knew what it was.

How far would this go? Was she ready for that? She'd never really understood the sex stories some girls would giggle about in the common room. Now, however, her entire body felt like it wanted more. She wasn't thinking straight… her hips rocked against him without her deciding to do it. A strange sound caught in his throat. She moved quickly to his ear, biting it gently and tracing her tongue around the edge. His fingers found her hips, digging in again and pressing her harder to the growing firmness at her thigh.

She loved that he didn't treat her like she was fragile. Her lips started down his neck again. A moan caught in his throat, emboldening her. Why wasn't she shy? Why didn't she hesitate? Kissing, touching, had never felt this easy. She pressed a hand to his chest, sliding it down.

"N-No," Draco stammered, nails digging into her slightly. Hermione paused. She'd never heard him stutter. Slowly, she sat up, pushing her long brown hair from her face. Draco sat up, gently pushing her off of him, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, holding his face in both hands.

Her entire body was still thrumming with desire. She stared at his back. What was going on in his head?

"Draco?" she hesitatingly put a hand on his back. He didn't recoil. She shifted over to him, straddling him from behind and wrapping her arms around his chest. His heart was hammering too fast. Why? This didn't seem right. All the stories she'd heard told her that the guy was never the one to slow things down. That had always been on the girl. But that wasn't what was happening now. She put her head against his back. "...what's wrong?"

He was silent for a long moment. At first, she didn't know if he would answer her. So she remained still, and quiet, for an even longer moment. Then he silently held her hand, she heard him very quietly. It was a thought. How did he do that without looking at her this time? _...I don't want to watch him make you fall for him, to use you, and then throw you aside like you mean nothing…_ She pulled her head away, tightening her arms around him, eyes wide, staring at his back. Ron's words had gotten under his skin? _I'm not trying to do any of those things, but I don't trust myself right now. And your wand..._ she inhaled sharply. _...I'm confused, Granger_. His hand gently pulled one of hers from his chest, she felt his body vibrate with his voice. "Don't tempt me in my own bed."

_That's exactly what he would want you to think!_ Ron's voice roared somewhere in the back of her mind. _It's a trap, Hermione!_

However, her heart suddenly softened immensely. Ron didn't see Draco's posture. He couldn't hear the tone of his voice she heard from his mind. Draco might've been a good liar, but that was when his mask was in place. Unguarded, she could see he meant it. She resting her head against his back, nodding in understanding. Neither of them moved for a while. She felt his heartbeat calming, still drumming against her fingertips. The heat in her body faded slowly, like a beast stretching out in the sun. It wasn't gone, but for now it was still.

Draco stood. She still wanted him in her arms. It felt colder. He silently returned to his letters. Hermione put the pillow back, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling somewhat confused and disappointed. Realistically, she wouldn't have had sex with him… but where would she draw the line? She sighed, pressing both hands into her hair, stretching. As her eyes closed, she had a vivid fantasy of laying next to him, teaching her fingers the shape of the scars of his chest, all the way down the front of his body. She heard a breathless _Granger_ and could feel his body tightening against hers.

She squeaked slightly in surprise, standing quickly, feeling hot again. Her fantasies had never felt so real. What was he doing to her? At the sound she'd made, she heard a quill snap by the fireplace. Draco stood slowly, his eyes barely glancing at her, jaw clenched. That was a look… restrained, tense- it almost made her want to push his buttons and see what happened. But she knew what would happen. That made it a little more appealing. What was _wrong_ with her? Hermione didn't like pushing buttons! It felt like it was his fault, somehow. He'd done something to waken this other part of her, and now she couldn't put it back to sleep.

"Follow me," he turned to another door nearby. She obeyed. There was a small, sunlit hall here with a single door at the end. When he pulled the door open, she gasped in surprise.

A large, narrow potion lab was set out in front of her. Several tall windows let sunlight dance over the contraptions and bottles. Everything seemed to glitter like jewels. On each windowsill there was a small, single bonsai tree. Draco walked to them first, picking up a small watering can. Her eyes examined every inch of the room. In the back, there was a door marked "storage". Two cauldrons were simmering softly near the back. One smelled familiar. The calming draft?

She frowned, approaching the other slowly. It was silver? But… if it was what she thought it should be, then it was supposed to be almost clear. Her breath caught in her throat. Hermione took a leaf from the closest plant, lifting it to fall down into the cauldron. It immediately turned brown and crumbled away. She whirled around to him furiously, hands in fists on her hips, glaring. "Draco, what the hell?!" Her heart pounded at the thought of his small notebook. "Is this what I think it is?"

He paused with the plants, meeting her gaze, flickering down to the potion. "Depends what you think it is," he said evenly, guarded again, "Leave it, Granger. This is my lab, not yours!" Hermione took out her wand and emptied the contents of the cauldron with a silent Evanesco. He glared at her coldly for a moment. That was anger. A muscle in his jaw was twitching. She didn't care. She wasn't going to leave the Draught of Living Death sitting there, ready for him at any moment. He moved away. "You can't stop me from brewing it again."

Those words hovered between them heavily. She swallowed hard, arm slowly dropping to her side, tears pricking her eyes. She closed them tightly, turning her back to him, blinking quickly. _No! I'm tired of crying! _Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, inhaling deeply. Just the fumes of the calming draft seemed to help. Silently, she wondered if playing to his Slytherin nature would work. She remembered Harry making this, and the Half Blood Prince's directions. Hermione has been so upset that day that she had memorized the pages afterwards. She knew she could make it better than Draco could, clearer too. "...mine is better."

"Excuse me?"

Hermione bit back a grin at the cold, offended tone in his voice. She turned to him, face neutral. "You heard me."

"Want to bet on that, Granger?"

Yes, she did. "Why would I?" she asked calmly. "I already know I can do it better than you. There's nothing to gain by proving it to you."

He slammed down his watering canteen. That felt like the old Draco. She had him and he didn't see it. "When I win this stupid bet," he growled, approaching slowly, "You don't get to Evanesco _any_ more of _**my**_ potions, ever again."

"If I win," she said evenly, "You don't get to brew one more drop of living death, ever again."

He tensed, then his eyes widened. "You clever little witch," he muttered, eyebrow twitching slightly.

"You can always say no," she replied easily, shrugging, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I could understand... not wanting to be beaten twice by a Gryffindor."

His eyes flashed. There was no way he could refuse it now. "You're on, Granger."


	29. Chapter 29: Promise

**Chapter 29: Promise**

His workbench was lined with ingredients and he tried to work calmly. Hermione had pulled all the things for the daily draft out of her bag, and then summoned her own cauldron, scales and knife from the bag. What didn't she keep in that thing? He had more than enough ingredients and supplies for both of them, but she insisted using her own cauldron. That was amusing.

Draco hadn't really understood this potion when Potter had made it in Slughorn's class. That failure had annoyed him. His mind had been so full of other things, that he'd made several stupid and careless mistakes. After that, he'd worked to figure out the Draught of Living Death. Something was still off, but he was sure part of that was due to his own distaste surrounding its nature. He believed potions were meant for altering the state of the mind, transforming, healing, medicine, for the pure sake of an experiment, or working side by side with Herbology. Poisons and other damaging brews had never given him much interest. He actually found them repulsive. Working around the fumes unsettled his stomach half the time, but he'd stomached it enough to figure this one out.

The fact that Hermione appeared almost enthralled by the bet caught him off guard. She'd played him. Was he about to be hustled? Part of him didn't think her capable of it. When he'd taken her bet, she'd pulled her hair into a ponytail at the back of her neck, smirking at him so arrogantly that he'd been taken aback. He had never seen that look on her face.

Now, they both were working over their cauldrons. He was slightly flustered, which didn't help his focus. She wasn't better at potions than him. He'd been tempted to burst that bubble multiple times during their years in the dungeons, just flat out demolish everyone. It had been more entertaining to sit back, get the easiest grade in his life, and enjoy the antics of the rest of the class. Severus had been cross with him. He'd said that Draco could've been the next Potion Master of Hogwarts if he applied himself. Draco hadn't wanted that. Dealing with snot-nosed brats for the rest of his life? No, thank you.

He was distracted again and added too many drops of Wormwood essence. Damn it!

His eyes flickered over to Hermione. She was calm and steady. He recognized that posture. _Why the hell are you competing with this witch, when you should have started on that daily draft to stop damage? Call it off. _No. He grit his teeth. She wouldn't be bullying him at the Burrow, in his own bedroom and in his potion laboratory! That was too far. This was _his_ home, _his_ lab, and _his_ pride.

As he sat glumly at the end of a long hour, he thought maybe he should've listened to that little voice. Maybe he would've done better if his concentration hadn't been split. She silently _Evanescoed_ the contents of both cauldrons away. How had she done it? He frowned bitterly. How many times had she tried to make it? Why? It was an awful potion. Her concoction had been nearly perfect. Draco frowned deeper, turning away from her immediately and beginning to sort out the ingredients for the daily draft.

"...Draco…"

"You won, Granger," he snapped irritably, summoning his scales from across the room and refusing to look at her. "It's about time to start the potion I came here to make today. Make yourself useful, or get out."

Hermione hugged him suddenly from behind. He paused, slowly placing down the ingredients he'd been sorting. _Naive, isn't she? _A cold voice whispered in his ear. _The Draught of Living Death isn't the only life-ending potion you could make. Does she really think she stopped you with this?_ Draco felt, for the first time in ages, his voice rise up to challenge the coldness. _Maybe she did. Maybe this stupid bet will make me stop listening to your pathetic banter._

"Say you promise."

Draco frowned, trying to turn around. She tightened her grip on him immediately, refusing to let him.

"What exactly am I promising?"

"...Promise me you won't do something to hurt yourself, without talking to me first."

Draco closed his eyes. Why would she ask him that? She'd just stun, bind or petrify him. Why would she even ask? That answer was obvious. He began to sort ingredients again, eyes opening slowly. "No."

"...Promise me... or I won't help you with the potion for your mother."

_What?!_ Draco whirled around, pulling her arms away from him. _How dare you, Granger… that's out of bounds! _She took a step back, frightened at the look on his face. "You sure know what buttons to push now, don't you Granger?" he snapped angrily, throwing her arms away from him. He had no choice. "Fine! I promise I won't do something to hurt myself until I talk to you first." He put up both hands, walking away from her, away from his lab, away from the ingredients. Coming here was supposed to clear his head, let him focus. Fuck that! Doors slammed out of his way as he stormed off, voice cold and cross. "I can't do this. Don't you ever play that card, again, Granger. One and done, are we clear?"

"Clear." she spoke quietly, following him out of the lab. "I'm sorry-"

"Time to fly," he spat angrily, entering his room again to the balcony, the doors bursting open loudly again. Draco swished his wand to summon his broom. "Come on."

She froze, clearly apprehensive, "Flying? Now? You want me to do that now?" she paled slightly when the broom zoomed into his hands. "...while you're angry?"

"Yes, while I'm angry." he snapped, setting the broom between his legs. "Flying clears my head. Make good on your word, Granger, or don't expect me to keep to mine."

She sat behind him, holding on to his waist tightly. Draco took off immediately into the sky, pushing the broom through the maze of statues and plants in the gardens. Her grip was like iron around his waist, and he could feel her head pressed hard against his back the entire time. The rush of air against his face made him relax. He slowed, circling high over the house to a lake beyond the garden. Lazily, he dove towards the water, fingertips brushing the surface, then back up. He did this a few times, the motion never failed to calm him.

With a start, he realized she was shaking. Draco paused, hovering close to the water. Why did that matter? Did he care? She held him even tighter as they sat still in the air, shuddering. Even angry at her, he did! Draco moved gently to the edge of the water, by a small cluster of trees and wildflowers. His feet lightly touched down.

Hermione released him immediately, falling off the broom onto her back. Her hands fumbled with her bag and he saw her summon three stomach settling vials. She drank all of them, and still looked sickly green. She put both hands over her eyes, pressing the heel of her palms hard against her eyelids, taking long, trembling breaths.

Guilt twisted his stomach. He had just wanted to calm down. Maybe he'd flown too aggressively with her on the back. It hadn't felt like it to him… but her reaction told him the truth.

"Never again," she muttered softly from her place on the ground. "Not when you're mad at me."

Silently agreeing, he sat down next to her. "Granger, why are you afraid of flying, anyway?"

"It's heights, not flying," she still didn't move, but her color was getting better. "...okay, well, maybe a little of both. No flying books ever helped. You just have to do it, and that's not how I learn."

"Madam Hooch was there to teach it-"

Hermione snorted, managing to pull her hands away to rest on her stomach, her dark eyes flashing at him in irritation. "You do remember our first flying lesson, don't you? Neville fell and broke his wrist. You and Harry were acting like such children that day! I never wanted to touch another broomstick after that."

His lip curled down slightly. That just wasn't right. Any witch or wizard should be comfortable flying. It was freedom, and peace, and exhilaration. How could she not enjoy it? Waving his wand, a second dark, sleek broomstick flew over the lake to them. She sat up when he put it across her lap. "You need a teacher to learn how to fly. It doesn't come naturally to most people."

Hermione shook her head no, "Harry was able to do it the first day, without a single lesson!"

Draco shrugged, "Potter has always been strangely immune to normal magical standards."

"I don't want to learn," she protested, not touching the broomstick, eyes fearful. "You just said I had to fly with you! I did that. You never said I'd have to do it more than once!"

"The Draught of Living Death isn't there only killer I know how to brew, Granger." It was a bluff. He'd never really tried to make anything else, but her widening eyes told him she believed him. Would she ever really be able to know when he was lying? "Here's the deal. Every flying lesson, you can ban me from brewing one more thing."

"...why is it always bets and deals with you Slytherin?" she chewed her lip and he could see she was almost about to agree. "You lie, all the time, Draco. Over stupid little things. How can I trust you?"

Oh good, she was starting to pick up on that. Too bad she didn't think to call his bluff.

"True, and that's not likely to change." He stood, broomstick in one hand. "I would give you my word, every time. I am a little too proud to go break it."

Hesitatingly, she put a hand on the broom and stood. Her face was still undecided. "... You'll do this properly, right? I mean, no zipping around like we did just now, but actual lessons and small steps?" She held the stick tightly in both hands, "This isn't going to cure my fear of heights."

"I'll take it slow." He held out his hand, "Deal?"

Her hand met his and they shook.


	30. Chapter 30: Fight

**Chapter 30: Fight**

Hermione smiled to herself as she finished her lunch, pleased with the way the past week had gone. Draco turned out to be a surprisingly patient teacher. Just a week, and she felt safe sitting on the broom a foot or two from the ground. He'd been good to his word. They had started out with handhold options and hovering. Gloomily, she has said that it must seem obvious to most people. He'd corrected her, stating that most wizards and witches grew up watching Quidditch their entire lives, so they had absorbed the knowledge without awareness.

Once he'd gotten her comfortable with the idea of gripping the broom with equal pressure with her legs, they had gone back to the lab. She had focused on her legs the entire trip, and he flew much calmer and smoother. Her eyes had still closed, face pressed to his back, but she didn't feel sick when they landed back on the balcony. Draco had calmed enough to return to the lab. The Daily Draft was now seven days in production.

A comfortable routine had built itself. Every morning, Draco joined the Weasley family for breakfast. Hermione was somewhat relieved to see that it looked like he was gaining a little weight. Mrs. Weasley had noticed, too, and now she was constantly pushing him to eat second helpings. Ron still hadn't returned to mealtimes with everyone. Some days, she would wake early enough to see Mrs. Weasley and Ron speaking quietly in the kitchen, eating long before the rest of the family was awake. When she had tried to join them one morning, Ron had gotten up and left in mid sentence. That was fine. Ron could be a bit bullheaded sometimes. They'd gone months not speaking at Hogwarts. She didn't really want that again, but it wasn't like she could force him to talk to her.

After breakfast, she and Draco would go to St. Mungos. Hermione would go for her daily drafts of potions, while he visited with his mother. Healer Amy was starting to gently push Hermione to make a choice about the experimental treatments. She had managed to push it off until September, telling Amy she wanted to run through all of the calculations and previous trials for each option before making a decision. Amy had accepted that. It was a small lie, but Hermione and Draco both wanted to see what happened with his mother's treatment before she jumped into anything new.

After St. Mungos, they would return to the Manor, check on the potions, go through a flying lesson, she would ban a new poison from his lab, and they would return to the Burrow for lunch. It was a packed morning. The afternoons varied. Kind of like today. Today, Hermione had a meeting with Mr. Ollivander. He had replied almost at once to the letter she had sent out of the "Guest Room" that day.

_Miss. Granger,_

_I would be happy to host you for tea, and discuss your questions. Please bring Mr. Malfoy with you. I regret my rash behavior and would be grateful for the opportunity to apologize. _

_Mr. Ollivander_

It was good news that they hadn't needed the wand to start the healing potion for Draco's mother. Hermione had done the math. Narcissa had been attacked in July. They started the potion in early August, and it needed to brew for half as long as she had been damaged. Early September would take that clock to two months. Therefore, if they brewed her potion for about a month, it would be equal to half the amount of time of her illness. The spell from the wand was the final ingredient to fully activate the healing properties.

Draco had not enjoyed walking through that math. Hermione hadn't dared to explain the numbers for a potion needed for her, or for Neville's parents. She was going to have to convince Harry to help her get hold of something to alter time from the Ministry. That was going to be tricky all around.

Hermione stood to wash her plate in the sink. Draco's magically floated next to her and scrubbed itself. "One of these days, Granger, you're going to remember you're a witch without someone telling you."

"And one of these days you'll put those hands to good use," she quipped back nonchalantly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him tense slightly, but he didn't rise to the challenge. She'd carefully tried to prod at the tension between them for the past few days. Draco hadn't put a hand on her once since the incident in his bedroom and laboratory. Withdrawl from the almost flirtatious energy between them made her a little disappointed. She didn't dare say that to him, though. As expected, Draco remained mute and merely finished washing the dish, going back to a book on the table.

"Are you sure you won't come?" Hermione asked for the last time as she put the dish on the drying rack, wiping her hands on a dishtowel before turning around.

"Positive," he replied coolly, "I have no desire to be in Diagon Alley today, Granger."

She'd argued with him multiple times, and he had remained stubbornly resistant to the meeting. Hermione understood his position. A single letter wasn't enough to wipe out the memory of Ollivander's attack. Being alone with him in that shop wasn't exactly appealing to her, either. A few minutes later, she found herself apparating to Diagon Alley and walking into the strange shop alone.

"Hello Miss Granger," Mr. Ollivander's voice floated from beyond the counter. Hermione had half hoped Luna would be here, at least. The old man stood, alone, and his eyes moved around her for a moment before he continued. "Draco Malfoy declined to attend, did he now?"

"...I don't think he's willing to set foot in this shop ever again, Mr. Ollivander."

"...Pity." he sighed, "Well, come on then. We'll take tea in the back room. You'll have to leave your wand outside of it, I'm afraid."

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Oh yes, the back room is a dreary place for wands." Mr. Ollivander's voice was heavy and sad, "It's where the broken ones go, you see. It frightens them. I'd rather not harm you and your wand in the same week, if I can help it."

Grudgingly, Hermione placed her wand in a soft case outside of the door. He did the same. Upon entering, she found herself surrounded by the sound of air, bird, and water. Mr. Ollivander had a tea room, warmly lit with candles and a fire, even in the summer. The painting on the wall was making all of that noise. She entered and he shut the door softly behind her. Tea poured into two cups, but the table was set for three. There were no windows on the walls, and she saw no broken wands.

"...Mr. Ollivander, where are the broken wands?"

"Oh, that's was a lie." He waved his hand at her as he moved to sit at the table. "Can't discuss wands with wands in the room, girl. They'd hear! They'd learn, you see. Some things are better left unknown to them."

He really was a crazy old bat. What had she been thinking, asking him for help? Ollivander was the best place to start. She took her seat, not touching the tea. "Mr. Ollivander, I need to ask you-"

"First," he put his hands together in front of him, his gaze sharp and intense as he spoke over his fingers. "How long has Mr. Malfoy been able to control your wand?"

"I'm not here to talk about that," Hermione said quickly, taken aback. "I need to know how a wand can-"

"Oh, but I do want to discuss it." Mr. Ollivander's expression didn't change.

Hermione frowned at him. "No. Mr. Ollivander-"

The old man stood with surprising dexterity, "Thank you for coming to tea, Miss Granger, but the next time you visit, you'll need to bring Mr. Malfoy with you." He opened the door to the room, speaking loudly into the darkness beyond. "I am sorry that I couldn't be of more use today, dear."

Utterly confused, Hermione stood, retrieving her wand, and returning to the street. The door shut softly behind her. What had just happened? Ollivander made no sense. With a start, she saw a familiar body leaning against a wall nearby, watching her, hands in his pockets. She glowered at him and kept walking, silent for a several long minutes as he fell into stride next to her.

She couldn't keep silent much longer than that. "I thought you said you didn't want to be here today." Hermione said coldly, crossing her arms over her chest as they moved.

Draco remained relaxed. "I also didn't want to leave you alone in Diagon Alley, with the way things stand at the moment."

Hermione whirled around hands gesturing in anger at a nearby shop window. She stomped a foot on the ground, still fuming from the meeting with Ollivander. If Draco had gone with her, then maybe she'd have an answer for the wand! Her voice rose angrily. "I could've used your help, you know!" Several people nearby paused to stare at them.

Draco paused, looking at her hands, then turning his gaze to the window of the shop she'd motioned towards. Hermione turned to look as well. When he spoke, it was low and quiet. "Granger, listen carefully because I'm not going to repeat myself." He stepped closer to the window, "You can scream at me until you're blue in the face behind closed doors. Don't start _anything_ in public." Draco pulled open the shop door, motioning for her to enter first.

Hermione stood for a moment, confused, until his eyes flickered slightly in a silent _go with it _expression. She frowned, but went inside. It was the Quality Quidditch Supply Store. Draco put a hand against her lower back, guiding her to a nearby table. He hadn't so much as touched her this week and she was annoyed to discover that it calmed her irritation.

"What do you mean don't start things in public?" she whispered, although the noise of the shop would've covered her voice if she spoke normally, "After everything you put us through at Hogwarts?"

"That was school, Granger, it didn't matter. Try these on," Draco said quietly, handing her a pair of gloves, "Keep listening." Hermione pulled one of the leather gloves on her hand. They were too large, especially around the fingers. "Don't be obvious. How many people are watching us?" He took her wrist in his hand, frowning as he examined the glove, shaking his head no.

Hermione took the glove off as he picked up another pair. She used the edges of her vision. The entire shop was stealing glances at them. With a start, she realized one owner in the back of the shop was frowning and staring Draco down. As she took the next pair of gloves, a hag entered the shop, settling down on a stool not far off. A hand pulled a notebook out, body bending to scribble prices of objects, but Hermione saw the body shift just slightly to be able to keep Draco and herself in their vision.

"Are we in danger?" she breathed as she pulled on another glove, a little startled. They were a better fit, but the leather was stiff as she tried to bend her digits.

"No." Draco replied easily, shaking his head no again at the gloves. "I'm the head of the Malfoy family now, Granger, stalkers comes with the territory." She pulled them off, and he lifted a pair of fingerless leather gloves to her. "That being said, I'd like not to give them anything to talk about if I can help it."

Hermione pulled on the fingerless gloves. These felt good on her hands. The leather was soft and comfortable. She flexed her fist and unclenched it a few times, pulling on the second glove and nodding in understanding. "Got it… won't they talk about us, though?"

"After that display in the street, absolutely," Malfoy nodded, putting a hand on her lower back and guiding her to the register. "But I get to control the headline." He pulled a handful of coin from his pocket and set it on the counter. She looked up at him in confusion. Why was he buying her gloves? She didn't need them. "Tell me, what is a better angle for a bunch of gossips, Granger?" He asked softly as they walked to exit. He held open the door for her, "Hermione Granger Clashes with Draco Malfoy... Or Draco Malfoy Escorts Hermione Granger?" Then, he offered his arm to her.

Hermione took his arm in hers without hesitation, "But, why the gloves?"

"You said you needed my help." Draco replied smoothly, silver eyes not meeting hers as they walked from the shop. "I found a lie that fit the truth. Besides… your hands are getting blistered from the flying lessons. The gloves will save your skin."

Hermione felt a rush of affection towards Draco. She put her second hand on his forearm as they walked. "Thank you."

Draco nodded silently. As they approached a clear area to apparate, she could've sworn she saw the tinge of a blush in his cheeks.


	31. Chapter 31: Back to the Secret Room

**Chapter 31: Back to the Secret Room**

Draco watched her sitting in the chair she had set up in front of the balcony. Feet tucked under her body, book open in her lap. A soft breeze kept fluttering the curtains throughout all the open windows, and doors. Her hair was constantly getting in her face, and she kept brushing it away as she read, forehead creased slightly in concentration.

Another week had passed, and he was rather proud of his control. After forcing himself on her in his own bed, he had been rattled. What if he hadn't been able to stop himself? What if she had never told him to get off of her? The thought left him uncomfortable to say the least. His self control had never failed so completely. Restraining himself had seemed the best option after that.

Except in strange little moments like these. Another fantasy played out in his mind- brushing his fingers into her hair, pushing it behind her ears, tilting her jaw up gently, pressing his lips against hers lightly.

She'd probably drop the book on his foot in surprise. Might be worth it.

Draco forced the image away and turned back to the book he was reading. Reluctant to visit with Mr. Ollivander, he had opted to try to find answers on his own first. If he couldn't find anything in the next few days, he would admit defeat and drag himself back to the wand shop.

"Draco," Hermione stood, frowning at the book, still locked to the pages, walking over towards him. Lowering his book, he magiced the low coffee table out of her way, as she had developed a habit of walking straight into the corner and bruising her shin. She sat down next to him on the couch, laying the book open between them. "...I think there might be more to go with this volume. Take a look at the way every author penned more information… this makes me think this was more of a log over time, rather than something written all at once."

He stared down at the ancient runes she'd been re-reading, "Granger, why does that matter?"

"You don't keep your observation pages in the same book as your notebook," she pointed out, meeting his gaze, "Maybe your ancestors didn't either." The book closed gently, "Maybe their observation pages are in the same library where you found this book." Her fingertips tapped the cover. "Maybe it has more information. You said you hadn't been back to the place you found this, right? Let's go take another look around."

"That is an idea…" but Draco slowly shook his head no. He'd been tight lipped about that secret room, and taking her through the remnants of the hall where she'd been tortured didn't feel right. Hermione hadn't had any night terrors, panic attacks, failed charms, or fits of crying for the past two weeks. A good sign the maintenance potions were working. Taking here back there was guaranteed to bring some of her trauma back full force. "...you can't come with me Granger."

Her eyes flashed at him stubbornly. Defiance. Maybe he should find a new way to phrase things. The word "can't" appeared to be a trigger, and he'd forgotten. "Why not?"

"You don't want to know," Malfoy said honestly. It was a good idea to take another look. Maybe the room did have more information. Being in that space felt wrong. He liked a potion lab brightly lit, clean, welcoming. The dungeons at Hogwarts had been dreary, and the secret room had felt strange. He stood, "I'll go take another look, Granger. Stay here."

Hermione stood, hands on her hips, blocking him. What was he supposed to do now? That stubborn glint was in her eye that warned him she'd be doing what she damn well pleased, thank you very much.

"...you don't want to go back there," Draco spoke very quietly, not wanting to scare her.

For a moment, she looked puzzled. Then, comprehension lit her features. Her face went slightly blank for a moment. She'd gone into a memory. When she came back, there was fear, but there was also determination in her gaze. "...I don't want to go back there, you're right… but I want to see this library more… so, let's go."

Reluctantly, he began to walk through the Manor. His footsteps echoed softly in the still and silent halls. Hermione kept close to him, and when they found the main atrium, she took his arm in hers somewhat tightly. "You don't have to do this," Draco said quietly as she took his arm.

"I want to," she repeated. When they got to the room and he opened the door, she gasped, fingers digging into his arm slightly, feet frozen. A soft whisper escaped her lips, "Draco… what happened in here?"

"One of my experiments went wrong," he replied easily, walking over the cracked and broken marble to the tapestry. It began to float up the wall at his command. Her arm slid from his slightly. He paused. Hermione was staring at the spot where the marble was still unbroken- the place where she had lain as Bellatrix tortured her. Her eyes flashed to his, wordlessly questioning him for the full story. That wasn't happening. His arm tightened on hers and pulled gently towards the fireplace. Her feet followed.

Once again, he constructed the strange staircase, and placed his hand on the door. It opened to him, and the two stepped inside to descend down to the hidden chamber. The light was brighter this time. Not blue, but warm and clear white light. The entrance chamber held torches this time, and there were a few black cords draped to either side of the door to the secret room. Odd.

When they entered the secret room, Hermione gave another gasp. He did have to admit, it was a magnificent chamber. Bookshelves seemed to line every wall. There were many tables with potion ingredients throughout the room, several medical instruments Draco had no idea what to do with hanging on the walls, multiple beds for patients or wounded, and an unending supply of strange and curious artifacts. Draco had only been interested in the bookshelf the day that he'd first come down here. The book had almost seemed to be waiting for him.

Magnificent as it was, something about the room was off. He didn't like all the strange objects he couldn't name. It almost felt like he didn't belong here. Strange, foolish thought. It was magic to the Malfoy family name. How couldn't he belong here?

"Where did you find the Healing book?" Hermione asked quietly. Draco wandered towards a nearby work desk. "It had just been sitting here. Oh…" he looked down at the desk where the first book had been. A different volume sat there now. "Looks like you were on to something, Hermione. There is another one…"

Excitedly, she joined him as he pulled the front cover open, smiling at him. He smirked, pulling the cover open. _TRIALS_ was glittering large and neatly in deep green ink. Draco flipped forward randomly in the book, finding an entry in English. The top of the page labeled the trails, and their short conclusion. He was sure the page must've been full of more details, but the top of the first entry he saw made him ignore the rest.

_Trial 176 - Muggle - Female - Age 7_

_Crucio curse broke mind beyond repair. Subject terminated._

The smirk vanished. His chest froze. "_What_?!" The horrified whisper was from his own lips. He flipped several more pages back.

_Trial 135 - Muggle - Male - Age 44_

_Crucio curse successful. Accidental poisoning of subject. Failure._

Draco began to flip backwards through the pages violently, feeling sick.

_Trial 110 - Muggle - Female - Age 21_

_Trial 97 - Squib - Male - Age 14_

_Trial 72 - Mudblood - Female - Age 79_

_Trial 51 - Blood Traitor - Male - Age 58_

_Trial 47 - Muggle - Male - Infant_

_Terminated. Poisoned. Executed. Tortured. Progress. Failure._ He stopped, unable to keep his stomach any longer. Draco turned away from the book, stumbling into a wall, heaving and vomiting over the stone floor until there was nothing left. A vial shot towards him from a shelf on the wall. He took it in his hand and smashed it to the floor, trembling. What in the name of Merlin _was_ this chamber? Disgusting, bloody, vile- the words couldn't come to his brain quickly enough. A quick flick of his wand and the mess was gone, another swish towards his mouth and the taste of the vomit was gone- but he could still feel the bile in his throat.

Hermione hadn't moved. She was staring at the book, hands locked to it, still as a statue. "Let's go." he growled, wiping his mouth. Not a single muscle moved in her face. Her fingers didn't move. The pages of the book suddenly flipped to the back, and Draco saw a quill rise to ink the page.

_Draco Lucius Malfoy - Crucio Experiment Log_

_Trial 1 - Mudblood - Female - Age 19_

The room… thought that she was his first experiment? How could the room think? What the FUCK was going on? "No," Draco whispered. He walked forward, lifted Hermione in his arms. Her body immediately relaxed against him, eyes closed, book closing and pulled to her chest. He stormed off to the stairs. Without another backwards glance, knowing in his bones, he would never come back, Draco hurried across the broken room to his bedroom.

As he walked, his mind focused on the witch in his arms, refusing to focus on the book in hers. Was she in a trance? How? What was wrong with her? Would she wake? That was an awful thought to consider. Old magic could do terrible things. What had he done, taking her down there? Panic clawed at his chest as he tried to remain logical for her sake. He laid her down gently on his bed, sitting next to her while checking for signs of life. Pulse, yes, breathing, yes, but not responsive. Alive was better than dead.

"Granger," he shook her shoulder, heart pounding in his throat. "Wake up."

Her head fell gently to the side, expression peaceful. The book slid to the side as well, opening to the accusing page _Trial 1 - Mudblood - Female - Age 19._ Draco needed to calm down. His heart was hammering harder against his chest in panic and shame. Mudblood. Dirty blood. How many times had that word crossed his own lips? How many times had he snarled it at her, spat it out. The whole time, his own family, his _own_ blood had committed countless vile acts that now made him ashamed of his name. He felt filthy.

"Come on, Granger," Draco growled, drawing his wand. He flicked his wand several times, trying to wake her. No good. Revitalize her. Nope. Reanimate her. Nada. Heal her. No effect. He even tried the soft healing song Severus Snape had used when Draco had been attacked with Sectumsempra. Absolutely nothing.

Cold panic washed over him again. He felt his eyes growing hot, surprising himself. His voice was on the verge of tears when he took her face in both hands, brushing her hair away with his thumbs. "Hermione… don't do this. _Please_, wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open. She gasped, sitting straight up and wrapping her arms around him tightly, trembling. Draco closed his eyes, holding her fiercely, burying his face in her hair and neck.

"What happened?" Hermione whispered, "You were sick… and then…"

"You were in a trance… the room… thought you were my trial." Those words nearly made him sick again. The smell of her hair kept him together. "I brought you back here." He spoke against her neck and hair, but he wasn't about to relax his grip. She was safe, awake, unharmed, and in his arms. Why had he taken her there? What had he expected? How had the room been able to cast a spell on her? What was that magic?

Hermione held onto him tighter still, and his hand rubbed softly up and down her back. His eyes were still too hot for comfort. The gentle motion calmed him as much as it did her. After several long moments, they slowly released each other. Their eyes seemed to fall together to the book she'd clung to in her strange stillness. Hermione lifted the book to see that the last page had changed. Dark Green ink scratched over the words, and a threat was written beneath it instead.

_Draco Lucius Malfoy - Crucio Experiment Log_

_Trial 1 - Mudblood - Female - Age 19_

_**DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY - BLOOD TRAITOR**_

_DO NOT RETURN TO THE SACRED CHAMBER. YOUR WEAKNESS IS A STAIN ON THE MALFOY FAMILY NAME. RETURN AND YOU WILL DIE._

Draco stared. He was tempted to throw the book in the fire. Reaching for it, intending to do just that, her hand stopped his. "Draco, I realize this book is foul…" her eyes were set. She'd already made a decision, "...but there may be important information, minor details that would make or break the healing potion. We need to read it."

"Have you lost your mind?" Draco hissed through clenched teeth.

"Not yet," she stated coolly.

He fell silent at that. Just the titles of the Trials made his head spin again, empty stomach tightening. "I… I can't." Draco admitted, quite serious. "Granger… I can't read that. It's vile. How can you stomach it?"

"I was able to research all about Horcruxes when Harry, Ron and I were trying to find them. I can deal with it." Her voice was even, but she did hold the book with contempt. Her hands threw it to the floor in disgust. "...It is vile, I wholeheartedly agree. Knowledge doesn't come without a price, Draco. I'll share anything that I think might be important."

Without stopping to let himself think, Draco held her face in both hands, turning her to him, and placed a soft kiss on her lips, placing his forehead against hers. Her hands came to the back of his head, holding him there, pressing her forehead back against his. They stayed that way for a second? A minute? An hour? Draco had no sense of time. It wasn't long enough.


	32. Chapter 32: Blood Traitor and Mudblood

**Chapter 32: Blood Traitor and Mudblood**

Hermione reluctantly had to admit, the book was vile. It also seemed to possess a mind of itself. The trial book, and the original book they found, had nearly inked all useful words away. **BLOOD TRAITOR** ran over every page, every word, scrawled in dark green ink. Luckily, Hermione had made a complete copy of the original book. She'd been fearful Draco might ask for it back, and she would need to reference it again. When she'd revealed this to him, he merely gave her an amused smirk, asking how many other books she'd copied for the same reason. Hermione couldn't honestly count at this point. Nearly a quarter of the restricted section at Hogwarts, for certain.

At that point, Draco had burned both books outside the Manor. When he returned inside his room, he looked around the walls as if he were seeing them for the last time. What was that look for? A bubble of fear caught in her stomach as she tensed. He wasn't going to hurt himself, was he? Hermione had strode across the room and held him tightly again. "What's with the face?" she muttered, squeezing him.

"Relax, Granger," his arms wrapped around her gently. "I was just thinking how to get some things out of here."

"What? Why?" Where else would he go besides the Burrow? What was he thinking?

"...I'm a Blood Traitor now… standing in a house with a room that can think for itself… books that can rewrite themselves… full of memories I don't want." he muttered quietly, pulling at her hair lightly. "...Doesn't make me think this is a place I want to let down my guard."

"Just come back to the Burrow." Hermione insisted. Where else did he mean to go?

"And give the house time to think?" he gently pulled her arms away. "Granger… I don't think you understand how deep this magic could go. I have no way of knowing, myself. This isn't my home anymore. It's a death trap."

Draco began to walk about the room, summoning a large suitcase in the center. He waved his wand. All the books flew off the shelves, into the bag. The bed shrank itself and dove in. The couches, chairs, pictures, curtains, bookcases. Soon they stood in a brightly lit, bare room. He disappeared to the potion lab. Hermione could hear the clinking of glass and metal. A house elf peeked its head in to the room. It was the old house elf that had intruded a few days ago. Several others also hesitantly walked into the space.

"Miss… where is the young Master going? Why is he leaving us?" The eldest looked tearful as she spoke, wringing her hands as she approached the bag at the center of the room.

Hermione felt the breath go out of her. How many house elves did this family have? "I don't understand… Dobby hated it here. Why-?"

"...Dobby was a strange elf… he was sent to serve only the Master… We've always been here, to take care of the mother and baby. Master didn't like Dobby not respecting duties to his wife and child. He punished Dobby badly…" the eldest swallowed hard, "But… Young Master was keeping us hidden from the Death Eaters, and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named…and...Master is dead… and the Missus hasn't been returning home..." Large tears broke down her wrinkled face. "Why is the young Master leavings us? Did we do wrong? Was his fire left cold? Was the curtains filled with dust?" Another held her tightly as she began to sob, collapsing to the floor, pulling at Hermione's leg, begging. "We can fixes it, if he gives us the chance. We can punish ourselves and do better, Miss!" The large watery eyes of all the elves were locked to her, silently pleading. "We has no Master or Missus to care for now if he leaves us, Miss. Don't let him leaves us!"

Hermione felt fear as the full weight of this crashed down on her. There was a room in this house could think for itself. There, countless trials had been done on Muggles, Mudbloods, Squibs and Blood Traitors. The room had tried to prepare her for an experiment, without Draco's aid. What was to stop it from doing something to these poor house elves? Maybe she could convince him. Draco strode back in the room, a second suitcase in hand. He paused at the sight of the house elf, weeping and collapsed at Hermione's feet.

"Draco… you can't leave them here," Hermione said fretfully, waving to the elves on the floor. "Can't you free them? They-"

All the house elves burst into unrestrained sobs at her words. They threw themselves at her feet, "NO MISS!" "Young Master, noooo!" "DON'T PUNISH US!" "We can do better- we can do better- we can do better." Hysterical tears burst from every eye as they pulled on their ears, clinging to each other, wailing.

"Granger, why would you say something like that?!" Draco scolded, sounding somewhat astounded. He strode across the room, setting down his bag. "Stop that crying." Instantly, the wailing ceased. "We're leaving. Go and summon the rest. Split up, and pack my mother's room. Get the greenhouse and the Owlery, as well, but wake all the birds and let them fly. Remember the Quidditch shed. Gather the books from every library… and pack my late father's study. Do not enter the broken chamber or the secret room. Get anything else you know I've forgotten. Come back here when you're done."

Several loud cracks and pops- they all vanished. Draco turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest, "...seriously, what was that about?" he growled, nodding his head where the elves has been sobbing, "Asking me to free them? They've done nothing wrong! Those elves have been my mother's since before I was born. How could you say something that rotten?"

Hermione felt taken aback. "Rotten?! Excuse me!" She felt herself flushing red with embarrassment and anger. "I'm not the one that has a bunch of slaves running around for them!"

His silver eyes narrowed, both in anger and confusion. "Slaves? What are you talking about? They're house elves, Granger- they _want_ to be house elves. They're not bound against their will."

"Dobby didn't want to be a house elf." Hermione interjected, fists clenched at her sides. "He was kept against his will! He wanted to be free! Lucius treated him-"

"My father," Draco's voice had gone cold. "Punished the elf for failing his duties to my mother when she was pregnant with me, Granger. Don't start talking about things you don't know."

_What?!_ Her jaw dropped. "Why would Dobby do that?"

"The elf was not following orders," he replied icily, crossed arms tightening. "He was supposed to be with my mother in the garden when she was pregnant. She fell, landed hard on her stomach. Her injury caused me to be born a month early… and my birth left her unable to have any more children. He wasn't one to forgive easily, Granger."

Hermione was floored. Dobby couldn't have… but then she paused. The elf had always done what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted, fighting through his magical bond to the Malfoy family. It wouldn't have been the first time Dobby had failed to follow orders. The house elf would never have meant to harm a pregnant woman, she was certain of that… but failing a direct order from his Master? He _was_ capable of that. Dobby had proven it many times. That did sound possible...

"Why wouldn't Lucius just have killed him?" Hermione asked, slowly unclenching her fists, somewhat stunned.

"...I don't have to tell you the kind of man my father was." Draco's voice was detached, cold and quiet. Hollow and almost bitter.

No. No, he didn't.

Several cracks and pops sounded. Seven house elves in total. Each held two small bags, about the quarter of the size of the two Draco had packed. "Good work," He turned his attention back to them. "Malfoy Manor is to be abandoned," he said clearly. "We are going to my Mother's Vacation Home, which will be known as the Manor from this moment on. You are to take all of these belongings there to set up the home. I will return there tomorrow. Understood?"

They nodded fervently, eyes sparkling with gratitude as they came toward the two bags he had packed. Everything vanished with another chorus of cracks and pops.

Draco took her gently by the elbow and began to walk to the balcony. The door slammed shut. The windows crashed down. Draco yelled in surprise. Hermione screamed as green smoke began to invade the room from the hall. Both drew their wands immediately- but then something strange happened. The Malfoy family crest above the fireplace flared silver, the light slamming the doors to the hall shut, sealing the edges, at the same time shattering the glass of the balcony door. A book burst from the crest, bound gray and white, going straight to Draco. The Malfoy family crest shone brightly on the cover, but instead of green and black, it was green and silver. Draco took it and Hermione's hand at the same time. She was terrified. The door to the hall was shuddering violently. They ran to the balcony and he turned on the spot, vanishing back to the Burrow.

Hermione landed painfully on something hard, and tumbled to the ground . The sound of glass clattering caught her ears. There were several startled yells around them. Landing awkwardly on Draco, he gave a cry of discomfort. She bolted upright when she finally stopped falling, her frightened eyes locked to Draco's face. He groaned. "Are you okay?" she breathed.

"I'd be better if you got your knee out of my crotch," he hissed in pain.

She scrambled off of him. Draco sat up gingerly, wincing slightly.

"What the fuck?!"

Hermione whirled around. Ron and Mrs. Weasley were there. It was clear he'd been eating a late lunch in the garden. She fell to her knees, head swimming slightly. If Draco hadn't said they leave- if they had come back there tomorrow. What would have happened? She was shaking.

"Hermione!" Ron knelt at her side, awkwardly putting a hand on her back.

"We could've died," Hermione muttered, on the verge of a panic attack, "Draco, if you hadn't thought of it…"

Malfoy was struggling to get to his knees. "Granger, breathe. We're alive. It's alright."

"IT'S NOT ALRIGHT!" Ron roared, turning his attention to Malfoy, lifting the man up by the front of his shirt and slamming him to the table. Draco's hands caught Ron's arms and pushed hard away from his body. "What does she mean, we could've died?! What the FUCK have you been doing?" Ron drew his wand, pressing it to Malfoy's throat, going purple "The truth, you worthless piece of trash, or I _swear_ I'll send you right after your good-for-nothing father!"

"The Manor attacked us," Draco hissed darkly, "I've been labeled a blood traitor by the magic of my ancestors, Weasley." His voice rose uncontrollably, "Now get your fucking wand off my throat!" Ron released him, and the wand, and fists started flying. Hermione couldn't move. She couldn't stop them. The sight of that door, the green gas, had her petrified, trembling.

A sudden shield charm burst between them. Ron roared, slamming his fists against it several times before whirling around to face Ginny and Harry. He approached them, but Ginny began yelling at him to go and calm the fuck down. After a terrifying Weasley screaming session, Ron was storming off with Harry to get a broomstick from the shed.

Hermione felt Mrs. Weasley helping her sit up at the picnic table. Breathing was getting a little easier. Her heart was slowing. "I'm okay…" Hermione muttered to Mrs. Weasley. Concern was clear in those eyes. Molly began to flick her wand to clean the mess of the table. Draco walked over, wiping blood from his lip as he sat next to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Calming draft?" he asked quietly.

"No," she closed her eyes, "Just… need to sit for a minute."

He put a hand on her thigh softly. Her palm pressed to his, squeezing his hand. The smell of the garden, the warmth of the sun, the heat from his body, the sound of the broomsticks overhead, it all helped to calm her down again. Suddenly she didn't want to sit. "We never got to the flying lesson today."

"That is easily corrected."


	33. Chapter 33: Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

**Chapter 33: Sanctimonia Vincet Semper**

It was surprising to her, that flying now brought her a sense of calm. Granted, she was barely three or four feet from the ground, but she felt safe, and in control. The meadows surrounding the Burrow were full of colorful wildflowers. She drifted lower, her fingers reached out to gently brush against them as she slowly moved across the meadow. Draco wasn't far off, watching her, weaving back and forth across the tall flowers. As if the thought summoned him, he was next to her.

"Nothing to say, Granger, you're doing well." He remarked with a familiar, cocky smirk, "Granted, you've got a fine instructor to thank for that." Hermione rolled her eyes slightly, amused at his arrogance. "Rolling your eyes at a teacher, Granger?" He flew in front and above her, hanging upside down from his broom, hair nearly straight on end as it fell down. "That's not what a goody-goody does, now is it?"

"Already told you once," she said sweetly, eyes glittering playfully. "I'm tired of being the good one."

Was the red in his face from hanging upside down? Or had she actually managed to make him blush? For an instant, he looked like he would reach out a hand to touch her. Then his hands tightened on the broom. "If you think you're okay, I'm gonna take a few laps."

She nodded, somewhat pleased that she had managed to get a reaction. Why did she like that so much? He took off into the sky. Hermione smiled to herself as she slowly moved, closing her eyes as she glided along in the sun.

"...You're flying…" She opened her eyes to see Ron coming up on her side. He was sitting up, staring at her, one hand on his broom, one hanging at his side. The expression on his face was surprise, confusion. "Hermione… you hate flying."

"Not so much anymore." She replied, nodding her head at the speeding bullet that was miles above the ground. "Draco's been teaching me. It is kind of relaxing."

Ron glanced up and Malfoy and then back at her. He frowned, obviously not pleased. "... Harry and I could've taught you, y'know. All you had to do was ask."

"Well… I didn't really want to learn at first," she admitted, "But Draco's a very good teacher."

"Would you stop saying his name?" Ron growled, the frown only seemed to deepen at that. His eyes glances towards her gloves. He tried changing the subject. "Good gloves for flying."

"Draco got them for me," Hermione continued, deliberately using his name this time, irritated that Ron would ask her not to. She flexed one hand inside the gloves, smiling slightly as she remembered that strange day in Diagon Alley.

For a long moment, they flew slowly through the meadow, silent. That was okay. At least Ron was trying to talk to her again. "...So… he's serious about you, then."

Hermione looked up quickly, startled. Ron's tone was strange. It wasn't a question.

She laughed slightly, confused as she met his eyes. "Don't be thick, Ronald! It's just a pair of gloves." Her hands tightened slightly on her broom, heart fluttering. Even as the words left her mouth, she remembered the look on Draco's face that day. "He said my hands were getting blistered from the broom."

"Hermione, do you honestly think just anyone would take the time to notice your _hands_?" Ron said incredulously, surprised that she was disagreeing with him. He didn't look entirely happy to be explaining this to her, either. "Malfoy saw it, and bought you a gift. He's teaching you to fly- the right way, if I'm being honest." Ron admitted begrudgingly, "And you're calling me thick?"

Hermione didn't know what to say. Ron's words made butterflies soar in her stomach. She tried to deflect him. "You don't know what you're talking about." Even as she spoke, she could feel the way Draco had kissed her after he'd woken her from that awful trance. Her stomach twisted slightly as she remembered how tightly he'd held her. She was being thick. _No! No, I'm not!_

"You just don't want to hear it," Ron snapped right back. "Damn it, Hermione… why'd you have to pick him?"

"What are you going on about?" she felt her heart in her throat, remembering the feeling of Draco's lips in his bed, in this garden, on the doorstep. Had she picked him? Had she? The question was startling. Quite suddenly, she needed to get away. "I haven't… he doesn't… Oh, shut up!" This wasn't a conversation she felt ready to be having, and certainly not the first thing she and Ron spoke about after weeks of silence! Hermione lay low on her broom, closed her eyes and took off. She hadn't ever flown this fast. Ron was calling her, but the roaring of the wind in her ears was louder.

"GRANGER, PULL UP NOW!" Hermione obeyed without opening her eyes and shot straight up in the air. A steady hand caught her broom, taking control. "Keep your eyes closed."

"Draco?" Oh Gods, how high up was she? Fear crept in her spine. She bit her lip, clenching her hands on the broomstick so hard she thought she'd snap it. They were drifting back down towards the ground. When she could feel the wildflowers around her ankles again, she opened her eyes.

Draco was looking half concerned, half pleased. "Never expected to see you that far off the ground, Granger. What happened?"

"I just…" her voice died in her throat. "...I needed to get away from Ron…"

Draco's expression darkened and his cool silver eyes flickered to the red-head. He sneered slightly as he spoke, "Oh, yeah? Need some help with that?"

"No!" Hermione said quickly. She didn't want them fighting anymore! But... she couldn't tell him why she'd needed to get away. _So… he's serious about you, then?_ _God damn you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, get out of my head!_ "He was just… being over-protective…" she swallowed hard at the white lie, "Harry and Ron both do that sometimes… why'd you tell me to pull up?"

"You don't lie very well, Granger, but I'll let it go this time." Draco said crisply, turning his head the other way and nodded at a tall, thick tree. "That little stunt of yours almost sent you head first into that monster. Glad you listened. Wasn't sure if you could hear me." Harry and Ron flew over to join them. For a moment, it was tense. Ron and Draco seemed to be trying to ignore each other, deep frowns on both faces.

Ron was still frowning as he broke the silence. "How about you just say you don't want to talk about something next time? Or give me a chance to shut up before you take off like that?"

Hermione violently shook her head no at Ron, telling him to stop, feeling a blush creep up her neck. Draco began to look towards her, raising a curious eyebrow. Harry pulled some golf balls from his pocket. "Feel like playing some catch, Malfoy?"

Draco looked a little surprised. He glanced over at her. "...as long as Granger doesn't plan on another suicidal sprint..."

She shook her head no, smiling a little apologetically at him.

A grin lit up his face as he turned back to Harry, "Hell yes."

Harry grinned too, tossing a golf ball to Draco as they both rocketed off into the sky. Ron stayed. "So…" he began awkwardly, "...what have you been up to the past few weeks?"

It was good to talk to Ron again. Stubborn mule that he was, she'd missed him. They flew through the garden, staying close to the ground, while Draco and Harry dove repeatedly. Mrs. Weasley was soon calling them all back for dinner. Ron joined everyone at the table. Neither Draco or Ron seemed to know how to approach each other. While they didn't speak directly to one another the entire meal, they both attempted to be civil. That was a small miracle in and of itself.

After dinner, Hermione helped Mrs. Weasley get some things packed. She and Arthur were going to Romania with George and Lee to visit with Charlie and the dragons. George was looking forward to meeting a few new potential business partners. When she was done, Hermione went looking for Draco to ask about that book that had come with them from the Manor. She searched the entire house, but couldn't find him. In the end, she had to ask Ginny for help. That woman had an uncanny ability to find lost things. Ginny told her to check near the place they'd drank the firewhiskey.

Hermione wandered out through the garden and past the hill. It was a cool summer night. The air had a very slight chill, and the sun had finally finished its firework display. Now, the coolness of the night began to catch her skin, stars beginning to shimmer overhead. Draco was there. A hammock was stretched out between two trees, and his arms were both behind his head. There were several soft balls of light swimming through the air around him, creating interesting shadows beyond the hammock and trees. The book that had come from the Manor was floating in front of him. His eyes were narrowed slightly at the text and he didn't look pleased.

"There you are," Hermione spoke so she wouldn't startle him. Draco looked up and over his shoulder, his face relaxed. "I wanted to ask about that thing."

"Not much to tell yet," he replied easily, looking back to the book. "Barely read the author's notes. There's no name. Just got comfortable." Hermione stopped next to the hammock, undecided for half a second. His eyes met hers again and he gave her a quizzical look, then shook his head no, "Don't even think about it, Gra- Ah!"

Don't? He really should think before saying some things to her. Defiantly, she sat on the hammock and it gave a sudden, violent swing. Draco's wand flashed to steady it. Hermione crawled next to him, resting her head on the arm above his head. He was definitely blushing this time. Her heart hammered slightly in her chest. Why did she enjoy that so much?

_So… he's serious about you, then?_

Hermione blushed slightly now, realizing how close they were. She quickly turned her attention to the book. "I thought your family crest was black and green?"

"It's supposed to be," Draco admitted, also glancing back to the book.

"Sanctimonia Vincet Semper," Hermione muttered, reading the banner of the crest. "Purity will always conquer." Purity… Pure bloods. His entire family were pure bloods. What was she doing? His family didn't get serious about half-bloods… definitely not muggle borns… why was she even _thinking_ that? They weren't dating. But why did she suddenly feel like running away again? Why was she afraid? Hermione sat up, heart thudding painfully in her chest. What was wrong with her?

A soft hand at her waist stopped her. "No… stay."

She didn't want to look back at his face. Without giving herself another moment to think, she turned quickly, laying down with her head on his shoulder and chest, refusing to look up at him. He didn't force it. His arm wrapped gently around her waist, holding her there. She put a hand on his chest, finding his heart hammering just as hard and fast as her own against her fingertips.

_I'm not ready to talk about this. Please don't say anything…_ Hermione could feel him about to speak.

"...it looks like I'm not the first one in the family to be labeled a blood traitor." Malfoy began, attempting to keep his voice even. "Look." He flicked his wand and the book opened to the author's notes, coming closer to their faces so they could read.

_If this book has found you, then it means you have rejected the pure-blood ideology that the Malfoy family has prided itself on for generations. I congratulate you. Our family would mourn._

_You may be feeling lost. Confused. Rejected. I hope these words may bring you some small comfort. Dark Magic, the magic you found in the hidden chamber, can only exist within one generation at a time. Could you imagine the suffering that would exist if generations of Malfoy's possessed such knowledge? Our ancestors feared the discovery of the Dark Magic, and the ultimate elimination of the Malfoy family. Their fear was so great that they created their inheritance structure, generation to generation. Their pride never considered that any Malfoy would reject tradition. The inherited powers that pass from generation to generation will now never be lost to you._

_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper… Purity will always Conquer. Being labeled a blood traitor has purified you, whichever generation of Malfoy finds my volume. Poetic irony, isn't it? So many generations of our blood misunderstood the motto, and twisted it for their own purpose. You will conquer the limitations of our history. Use this book to eliminate darkness. Use it to heal. Know you're not the first. Good luck._

Hermione looked up. Draco was re-reading the page. His eyes were narrowed. Was he squinting? "Draco, do you need glasses?"

His cool silver eyes shot wide open and he turned to look at her sharply, "Of course not! There's nothing wrong with my eyes."

Oh, he shouldn't of looked at her. Hermione had a wild fantasy of straddling him and picking up where they'd left off in his bedroom weeks ago. She tore her eyes from his, back to the book, trying to calm her racing mind. "Mhmm. Can you turn the page?"


	34. Chapter 34: The New Malfoy Manor

**Chapter 34: The New Malfoy Manor**

Sunlight danced across his eyelids. Draco's eyes fluttered open sleepily. He found himself, once again, laying there with Hermione Granger against his side in the hammock. She was still sound asleep, breathing slowly, warm against his chest. They had read the book for hours, curled up together. At some point, she had drifted off to sleep. Her warm body had easily drawn him into a doze as well. The book lay against his stomach, their hands held it there, lightly held together.

It was a small comfort to know that he hadn't been stripped of the power of health. Reading through the first half of the book had made it clear that he would still be able to cure his mother, and Hermione, and Neville's parents. Whoever had put this book together had compiled the mountains of Dark Magic trials and experiments into clearly understandable options. It was complicated, but there was nothing Dark about the actual spells or potions used. How the information had been gathered was a different story...

For the first time in his life, Draco thought he wanted to be a Healer.

Why not? This book had answers to ailments that the magical community didn't have. Undeniably, the knowledge had been born of Dark Magic, but he couldn't control that. Should he not use it? Would it be better or worse? All the blood that had been spilled to gain the knowledge… would it be more disrespectful to use it, or forget it? _Who would trust you? Who would be willing to be Healed by a Malfoy?_

As if sensing the voice in his head, Hermione muttered something incomprehensible in her sleep, nuzzling his chest sleepily. His arm ached under her body, but he didn't dare move. A sudden thought struck him. She would. Hermione needed this knowledge, so that she wouldn't lose her mind. His mother. He would never have her back again otherwise. Neville's parents. It was the fault of his mother's blood that the boy had lost his parents. Draco couldn't give back lost time, but this knowledge could restore their lost minds. It could bring them back. ...was it actually possible to make up for some of the mistakes he'd made?

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She yawned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Draco winced as his arm began to tingle uncomfortably from the long immobile night. He flicked his wand to magic his mouth clean. Such a simple little spell. He hated morning breath.

"...ugh… I need a toothbrush…" Hermione muttered, rubbing her face with both hands.

"When _are_ you going to remember you're a witch?" Without thinking, he flicked his wand towards her as well, casting the same spell. She jumped, unprepared for the sensation, and whirled around. The entire hammock gave a dangerous jerk. It flipped. They both fell out to the ground. He landed hard on top of her. Scrambling up to his elbows, he tried to get up, but his foot was caught in the hammock. Amused, he tried to kick free. "Granger, can you not act like a wildcat first thing in the-"

Her hand touched his cheek. The word died in his throat. Her lips pressed against his. _Don't do this…_ Eyes closed and he found himself kissing her back. Her other hand went through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp pleasantly. Electricity shot down his spine. _You don't know what you're asking for…_ He shivered, her tongue pressed against his lip and he opened his mouth, welcoming the touch. _I'm not going to want to stop…_ One hand fell to her hair, fingers tangling in the curls.

Heat, urgent heat, was crashing through him from her lips to every cell of his body. Logical thought was being erased. Why wasn't he supposed to be kissing her? This felt right. He pressed the knee of his free leg between her legs softly. She let him. Why hadn't he done this last night, in the hammock? He'd wanted to. Teeth softly nipped at her bottom lip. Why had he avoided this? She made a soft sound of pleasure. He'd almost forgotten that sound.

His lips trailed down to her neck and he was biting her. She cried out, nails digging into his back. That felt good. In his mind, a heated vision played of her making that sound, no clothes between them, his body locked against hers. One of her hands scratched down his back as he peppered soft kisses along her neck. She turned her head to the side, giving him a better angle. He bit softly as his hand began to snake up the side of her shirt, thumb hesitatingly brushing the soft skin of her waist, daring to pause, waiting.

"Yes," she whispered. Draco pressed his palm flat to her skin, coming back to claim her lips. Merlin, her skin was so soft, so warm. She flinched slightly as his fingertips teased her ribcage. Was that a scar he felt? He wanted to see it.

"'Oi, Loverboy."

George's voice startled them both. "You're interrupting," Draco hissed through clenched teeth as he turned to glare at the man, quickly returning his hand outside of her shirt.

"Not my fault you have a shitty sense of foreplay," George's voice was full of restrained laughter as he met Draco's glare. "Honestly, night full of stars, hammock, sexy little floating lights- and you _read_ 'til dawn? You two have problems." He held up a letter, shaking it slightly in his hands. "St. Mungo's wrote. Hermione's late for her appointment. Apparently this has happened once before? They don't want to take any chances. You're lucky I'm the messenger. Mum would've cursed chastity belts on the both of you, if she saw this."

Those words snapped some sense into his clouded mind. What time was it? How late was she? Consistency was part of the effectiveness of the treatment. Draco tried to pull his leg free again. George snickered, flicking his wand, the hammock vanished. He caught his leg on the ground, pushing up off of Hermione. She sat up slowly, a deep crimson creeping up her neck.

_Creeping up her neck… how far does she blush?_ Draco smacked himself internally.

Hermione brushed her wild hair back from her glowing face. "I'm just going to go shower and-"

"You're not supposed to be late," Draco interrupted firmly. "You can shower later."

"Gonna have to agree with him, 'Mione," George replied with a shrug. "Your Healer isn't very pleased about this, I can tell you that much."

That was how Draco found himself visiting with his mother- a full half hour earlier than Hermione needed to be at her appointment. _I'm going to wring that no good, lying, rotten git's neck when I get back…._ Draco seethed. Good news, she wasn't at all late. But did George have any idea what he'd interrupted?

...maybe he did. George had flat out asked Draco why he was closing off every time Hermione made a blatant pass at him. The first few times he'd asked, Draco had brushed him off or ignored him. But the man was persistent, and never seemed to fail to have a stock of firewhiskey. It was been a surprise when he'd told George the truth.

He didn't want to use her, didn't want to lead her on when he wasn't sure what the fuck was going on in his head. The idea of hurting her gutted him, and the less he played with fire, the less likely he was to burn her. George had been a little surprised himself. Then, the idiot was seized with a sudden guilty conscience and admitted he'd laced some veritaserum in with the whiskey. They'd had a hell of a fight- but the silencing charms on the room had kept that much a secret from the rest of the house. It had ended with George swearing he'd never do it again, and Draco destroying every last drop of the spiked whiskey.

After Hermione's appointment, they apparated to his mother's vacation house. He needed to check on the potions and make sure the travel hadn't disturbed them. He'd also decided it was time to start Hermione's. Maybe he had already wasted two weeks by being cautious. The potion lab here was even more beautiful than his own home, with more windows and light and space. They'd head there after she showered.

The sight of vacation home filled his heart with strong memories. It had been years since he'd been here. A house, somewhere in the tropics, high on a cliffside overlooking a gorgeous waterfall. Springs of clear water were everywhere. "This is beautiful," her stunned whisper made him turn his head to her. The air whipped strongly at this point, and her curls were dancing around her head. He wanted to restrain them in his fingers, pick up where they'd left off this morning.

He clenched his fist to stop himself. "Andi," he called. A sharp crack, and a house elf appeared at his side. "Excellent work. The home looks well cared for." The house elf beamed at him, "Please show Miss Granger to the showers, and get her a change of clothes."

"Oh, there's no need for that," Hermione said quickly. Draco silenced her with one aggravated glare. His nerves were too frayed to deal with her arguing with him over something so trivial. "I… have my own clothes," she protested weakly. Good to know he still had one look that could shut her up.

"Would the young Master like to shower as well?" Andi asked with a tilt of her large head.

"I'll go to my chamber," Draco replied curtly. "Lead her to the library when she's ready."

Andi bowed low to him, "Yes, young Master."

Hermione looked torn. Slowly, she followed the elf, thanking her as she went. What was with her and house elves? Didn't she have a thing about them at Hogwarts? He couldn't remember anymore. Those years felt like another lifetime ago. Soon, he had showered and changed and was touring the new Manor.

The house elves had done an excellent job cleaning and resetting the home. Ever since the Dark Lord had begun to return, his family hadn't come here. His room here felt more relaxed. The book cases wouldn't fit, so it was just his bed, a couple of chairs, and his writing desk. That was alright. The library here was so massive that it didn't make much difference to him if the books were in his bedroom, or the library. It was packed floor to ceiling with books. One large door interrupted the wall of books.

His feet paused when he came to the room that had been his Father's study. Even on vacation, the man had worked tirelessly. Not even being away from the Ministry would stop him. Draco hesitantly stepped in front of the door, and pushed it open.

It looked like his father would walk back in the room at any moment. There were many more books than he remembered, and a few odds and ends from the Manor, but overall, the room was as familiar as ever. The deep leather furniture was oiled and sleek. Draco entered, inhaling the scent of tobacco that his father occasionally smoked. This room smelled earthy and warm. The dark, wide desk had organized stacks of paper, and as Draco approached the tall leather chair, he saw today's paper sitting on top, a pair of reading glasses neatly folded on top. Which house elf was unable to break their routine?

With a strangely heavy heart, he pulled the chair from the desk, slowly sitting. The brandy his father had enjoyed was in a glittering crystal decanter at the corner of the desk. Draco could almost see his father striding in the room, raising his eyebrow at the sight of Draco sitting at his desk. Most of the time, Lucius had merely magiced himself a drink, letting his son stay there, choosing to sit in one of the armchairs instead. How many times had he taken this chair, book thrown on his father's desk, enjoying the feel of this room as he read? It was calm, grounding, peaceful- the perfect room to study or focus. No servant or guest had ever dared to disturb this room, so it was the perfect place to go when he had wanted to be left alone.

Seized by a strange curiosity, Draco reached out and lifted his father's reading glasses. The proud old man had ripped them away from his face quickly most times Draco had seen him wear them, insisting he didn't need them. Unfolding the black frames, he slid them on to his own face.

The text of the daily prophet sharpened and focused immediately. He blinked and it was gone. Then, everything became difficult to see. His eyes burned, vision swimming. Draco ripped the glasses from his face, putting them down on the desk. Where had the newspaper gone? Hot tears were streaming down his face. What? No! He never should've come in here. Attempting to stand failed. What was happening?

Draco put both elbows on the desk, holding his skull between his hands, chest heaving with silent sobs. He could see his father, sitting there, calm as ever, reading the paper at the chair by the fire. What was wrong with him? What magic was this? "_What are you crying about now, boy?"_

"I'm not," Draco lied, closing his eyes, willing the tears to stop, chest aching with the strange, rasping sobs from his lungs. His eyes snapped open. Lucius was still there.

"_Of course not,"_ Lucius sighed, turning a page in his newspaper. "_You're angry, or you're hurt. That's the only time you ever blubber on like this."_

"Of course I'm angry!" Draco slammed a fist into the table. "You… you weren't supposed to…" another sob tore his throat, his voice dying to a whisper. "...not until you fixed this…"

"_I never could have fixed this." _Lucius spoke coldly, folding the newspaper, placing it on the edge of the chair. He stood, back to Draco, not turning around. "_...that's why you're still alive, son." _The hallucination walked through the door as it swung open, becoming nothing but whispers of smoke. Draco put his head down on both his arms, unable to restrain the tears, unable to stop, even though he knew who was standing there, watching him break.


	35. Chapter 35: Undeniable

**Chapter 35: Undeniable**

"_Take care of my boy."_

Draco couldn't believe the last words he heard as the hallucination vanished, as the sound of soft footsteps rushed over to him. He tightened his arms around himself, trying to lock his body, trying to stop this insane grief from overtaking him. It wasn't working. The tears wouldn't end, and his sobs caught painfully in his throat as he tried to stop them. He clenched both fists, nails digging into his palms again.

A warm hand pressed against his back, soothingly sliding from the back of his neck, down his spine and back again. She didn't say anything. Why did he tell that elf to bring her to the library? If he'd told her to wait in the guest wing, he could've met her when he'd regained some sense of control. Had he ever cried like this in his life? No…

Her other hand pressed to his scalp, brushing his hair back gently through her fingers. The hypnotic motion of her hands slowly eased his breathing. He felt when the tears finally stopped, but he didn't want to lift his face to look up at her. What his eyes must've looked like right now, he didn't want another living soul to know. His body felt hollow, and his head was pounding from the effort of crying that hard. He was about to ask her to leave him alone. Before he could say anything, he felt her hand slide down to his arm, fingers taking his hand and gently pulling. He resisted at first, but she gave a gentle squeeze. "C'mon, Draco…"

She gave another soft tug on his arm and he relented, standing, his other hand quickly grasping his wand in his pocket to wash the salty tears from his face. Hermione wasn't facing him. She walked in front, leading him across the massive library to the only other room in this wing.

His.

Draco's feet stuck to the floor. He couldn't be alone with her there. Not like this, not when his control had completely snapped. What would he do to her? She had no idea what she was playing with now, and neither did he. She turned, wrapping her arms around him tightly, then a hand reached up to his jaw, pulling his lips down gently.

"No… Granger-" his voice felt strange as he caught her hand in his, shaking his head no.

"God damn it, Draco," she held him at an arm's length, angry tears were glittering in her eyes now. "You're going to let me kiss you after that, and you're not going to fight with me about it!"

"I'm not opposed to kissing you, you silly witch," Draco muttered, unable to stop the truth from his lips in this state. "...it's stopping. You never tell me when to stop."

"That's it?" she asked, eyes widening slightly, "Draco, that's easy. Don't have sex with me, don't rip off all my clothes…" her hand tentatively reached his cheek again, the arm holding him away slowly pulled him closer. "...can you stop pretending…" her voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought aloud.

A limit. A boundary. He could respect that, knowing it existed with a clear mind. As her lips pressed against his this time, it was softer, gentler, and he felt calmer, in control of himself. His hand reached to her jaw, thumb lightly stroking her cheek. The hollowness in his chest grew full, soft and warm. That was new. And it was _good._

Fear of hurting her evaporated. She'd made it clear she wanted this, and his mind didn't feel as frenzied as it had so many other times. He pressed his tongue against hers first, and felt her fingers slowly tighten against the front of his shirt. This was different. Calm and sizzling, not wild. He liked this _much_ better.

"Still want to lead me to my bed, Granger?" he muttered as he slowly withdrew from her lips.

"What?" she looked a little dazed, biting her lip, eyes locked to his mouth.

"That's my chamber you were dragging us towards," he said quietly, thumb stroking her lip free of her teeth this time.

That blush began to sneak up her face again, she hadn't realized where she'd been so confidently dragging him. "Why is your bedroom attached to the library?"

"My bedroom would've been the library if my parents had allowed it." He replied simply, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation. "Did you think all those books at the Manor were for decoration?" Her unfinished sentence came back to him and he couldn't let it go. "...can I stop pretending what?"

"...pretending you don't want more than a kiss," her voice was so quiet, he wasn't sure she was actually saying it. She grew very red in the cheeks at that. And there was no one to interrupt them this time.

Draco took her hand in his, taking her into his chamber and shutting the door behind them. He did want more than a kiss. Gryffindor bluntness. That could be appreciated in this situation.

When they sat on the bed, the crack of a house elf appearing with that damned contraceptive potion made them both laugh nervously, recalling the same thing from several weeks ago. This time, he took the potion and placed it on the night table. They weren't going that far.

When he had placed it there, he turned towards Hermione and kissed her, slowly, that wonderful warm sensation flowing through his chest again. What was that? It felt like butterbeer. Gentle fingers took his hand back to her waist, returning his hand to the skin he'd been ready to explore that morning. Willingly obliging, his hand lazily traced up her soft skin, fingertips finding the healed, torn skin of her ribcage once more. He still wanted to see that scar. Would she let him? He liked the feeling of his fingers along her ribs.

Hesitant fingers found the buttons of his shirt. Draco pulled away from her for a moment, catching her eye. She was focused on those buttons, refusing to meet that look. He felt his heart pounding in his throat as she slowly undid the first three, then hesitated, meeting his silver gaze. Draco raised his hands over hers, slowly unbuttoning the next one, and the next. He pulled the shirt off, feeling strangely exposed. An undershirt still kept his skin and scars from her eyes- but nothing hid the Dark Mark from her now. She'd only seen it once, at the Weasley's table… but her eyes weren't focusing on that.

She slid further back on the bed, he followed, somewhat surprised when she pushed his back to the bed, pressing her lips to his softly to keep him there. Hermione curled up against his side like she had done several times already, palm resting on his chest. For a long moment, they stayed just like that. Then, Draco slid his hand under her shirt again, stroking all the way up from the curve of her hip, to the swell of her breast, down over her hip and jeans, back again. His fingers felt like they were memorizing that shape.

His undershirt was tugged up slightly and he felt her palm press against his stomach. Her fingertips moved to his chest and began to trace the scars left from Potter's attack. Once, when Myrtle was screaming, and he was bleeding out, he had hoped it would kill him. Die, and he would've been able to stop. Everything would have been easier.

If he had, he wouldn't know this. He wouldn't know the taste of Hermione's lips, or the sensation of her fingers against his chest. Draco felt a rush of gratitude that he was alive. This gentle, slow exploration was… different. At Hogwarts, he'd never taken his time like this with anyone. Hermione shivered slightly each time he stroked a particular spot on her ribcage. "Ticklish?" he mused softly.

"...a little bit." she flinched slightly as he ran over the spot again. "You?"

"Not at all," he replied easily, moving to trace his palm up her body, then nails lightly down, curious to feel her reaction. Hermione squeaked slightly, pressing her entire body harder against his, palm lying flat against his chest. That was fun.

Her hand lightly smacked his chest, barely able to do so under his shirt. "Don't do that!"

He chuckled, "...don't, Granger?" He pressed his palm against her skin again. She was tight as a spring. Very entertaining. "Why should I listen to that word, when you never do?" Nails playfully traced down her skin a second time.

She ripped his hand away from her, sitting up, arms protectively crossed over her front. "Not fair, Draco, you're not ticklish! You don't know how it feels!"

"You haven't even tried yet, Granger." Another laugh escaped his lips. He sat up, pulling his shirt off as he did so, throwing it aside. Her eyes widened, and he could feel them tracing his scars. He laid back again, arms behind his head, daring her, enjoying the sensation of her examining him. "How do you know I'm telling the truth?"

Her expression shifted. What was that look? She straddled him. Draco blinked in surprise, then felt her nails dragging with a feather light touch along his ribs and sides. His back arched in pleasure and his voice was lost. Sweet Salazar, that tickled, but it also felt sinfully good! She did it again. He caught her wrists quickly, pulling her down so he could kiss her, trembling slightly.

"Why do you lie about the smallest things?" she muttered as she pulled away from his lips, frowning slightly.

"Why not?" he replied simply, blood pounding lowly. He was getting hard. That little trick, her taste and now her weight pressed teasingly against him... she'd notice soon, and he couldn't stop it. "That was certainly more interesting than telling you I was ticklish." Releasing her hands, one of his arms moved behind his head now that she'd relented, the other lightly releasing her hand and resting on his stomach.

"...you really could've died that night." The sadness in her voice surprised him. Draco's fingertips reached out to barely brush the rib over her shirt where he'd felt her scar. "Feels like you've got something that could've taken you out, too. What is that?"

His breath hitched when her fingertips held the edge of her shirt and she pulled it up far enough for him to see the swell of her breast hidden by a dark fabric. The mark was a dark purple, and appeared to go over several long inches of skin, disappearing beyond her bra. Had her ribs been broken with that spell? What had happened?

Dark Magic. Only that could've left a scar that a St. Mungo's Healer had been unable to remove. Maybe he'd find a spell in that volume that would take the mark from her skin. "...How?" he asked softly, pressing his palm to her side and softly stroking the scar with his thumb.

"...The night at the Ministry…" Hermione said quietly. "I'm not really sure what happened… this," she put her fingers over his, "Is what I had when I came 'round."

She looked a little hesitant now, more nervous, undecided. He saw her swallow hard. That was her limit. Wanting more than a kiss, and being prepared for more were two different things. Maybe she'd only just worked that out, sitting on top of him when he lay there half naked, hard against her thigh. Neither had been thinking through any of this last time. It was good to finally know what her uncertain expression looked like. Gently sliding her from his lap to his side, hand still on her scarred ribcage, he kissed her softly. This had been excellent- in control, calm, sexy, fun- he could do this again. It was much better than the urgent, almost primal desire that had consumed him the last few times.

Although, someday… that could be fun, too.

"Don't you want more?" she asked quietly, some anxiety sneaking into her tone. Was she afraid of disappointing him? Silly creature.

"Not right now," Draco lied again, playing with her curls. Some day she'd learn to appreciate his harmless little lies. Of course he did. She wasn't ready, so that was enough. Who had taught this woman how to say what she wanted, or didn't want? Or had anyone? That was an interesting idea. They would come back to that later. He would always want more. But that didn't mean he needed it. "I'm content."


	36. Chapter 36: Affectionate

**Chapter 36: Affectionate**

Hermione stared at the ceiling. The house felt strange, so empty, and quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone off with George and Lee to Romania. Ginny was supposed to be home. However, Hermione had found a letter on her bed when she'd gotten back that day.

_Hermione,_

_Gonna go stay with Harry at Grimmauld Place for the week! Mum would kill me if she finds out, so keep it a secret. Ron chewed me out and decided he was coming along to chaperone. Stupid git! Almost makes me want to "forget" to cast silencing charms! _

_Percy will be home, but he shouldn't bother you too much. Enjoy having a quiet house with your pet snake ;) Don't do anything I wouldn't do!_

_Love,_

_Ginny_

Hermione grit her teeth slightly. Something had changed the last time he had kissed her. Up until now, she'd enjoyed how much of a reaction she could get from him. He was the one dazed or surprised. Now… now his touch made _her_ melt. Her brain went soft, her body relaxed, and she forgot to breathe. It was somehow gentler, too. She wasn't ready to think about what that meant. It also didn't help that she _knew_ he'd stopped her the other day, because she'd hesitated. She had appreciated that… but she'd almost found the courage to pull her shirt off before he'd stopped her.

Her room was quiet without Ginny… she didn't like it. Hermione sat up huffily, going to get a glass of water. Maybe she needed to turn on a fan or some music. Draco's door was open. She tried to walk by silently so she wouldn't disturb him. On the way back, she paused, peering into his room. Draco lay on his stomach, arms wrapped around a pillow under him, legs stretched out, feet crossed lightly at the ankle. He still wore a thin shirt and pajama bottoms from the Weasley's. Why? He could have his own clothes now. The book was propped open in front of him. A slow smile crossed her features. He was wearing reading glasses!

She snuck into the room and he jumped slightly, tearing the glasses from his face when she sat next to him, placing her drink on the nightstand. "Find anything interesting?" She commented, enjoying his attempt to hide the readers with one arm over the edge of the bed.

"Just wanted to read it again," he muttered quietly. "...we will have to go to Ollivander. There is a note about wands in here, but it doesn't help much." Hermione stretched out on her stomach next to him. He turned to the book, squinting again. Grudgingly the glasses came back to his face. She bit her lip slightly, trying not to smile.

"Not a word." He growled irritably as he turned the page.

She read with him for several long minutes. It felt better to be in here, where it wasn't so empty. Maybe she could sleep in George's bed. She sat up to take a sip of water, then turned to ask if he'd be okay with that, but paused. Draco's hand was on his neck and he was pressing hard into a spot at his shoulder as he read, fingers digging in slightly. With his posture while reading like this, she could understand why it ached.

...maybe she could enjoy getting a reaction out of him again, as long as he wasn't kissing her. Hermione straddled him from behind. His hand went away, palm flat on the bed as he turned to look at her over his shoulder, "Granger, what the hell are y-ohh…" Hermione put her hands against his shoulders and began to squeeze the tight muscles. He broke off with a moan as his entire body wound tight as a spring for a moment, then relaxed. He seemed to melt under her fingers. Draco's hand pulled the glasses away as his head fell down, pressing into the pillow under him. A soft hiss of pleasure followed by, "...sweet son of a Basilisk… yess…"

That was quite a reaction! Hermione froze, surprised that Draco didn't resist her at all.

"Don't stop," he begged, voice barely a whisper against the pillow, "...Hermione, please... don't stop."

That would be in her dreams later. He was capable of begging? A flush of heat flared through her head to toe. He thought she would stop, after that? Her fingers and palms worked at his tense shoulders and neck. Occasionally a moan or sigh would tell her how much he liked what she was doing. Those were sounds she had never heard from his mouth, and she very much enjoyed every single one.

Draco was breathing, slow, deep and relaxed when she slid to his side a long while later. Sound asleep. Hermione smiled slightly. That had been worth it. She sat up, taking the book and his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. For a moment, she looked at him, brushing his hair from his face. She was tempted to kiss him.

Hermione sat up on the edge of the bed, turning her back to him. That wouldn't be right- not while he was asleep. Surprisingly, his arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her down. Hermione squeaked slightly in surprise, then froze. "...stay." he muttered against her ear, sleepily, unaware. They were both on their sides, his arm wrapped around her stomach. His body was very warm, pressed against her backside. How was he always so warm? Her arm draped along his, lightly pressing into his fingers. Draco lightly kissed the back of her head, pulling her into him more firmly, body spooning her completely.

Maybe this was okay, just for tonight.

She woke to Draco feathering her neck and shoulder with soft kisses. _That_ was a nice way to wake up! Stretching, her arms went above her head, one covering her mouth, body tightening from head to toe as she yawned widely. Draco's hand stroked across her bare stomach, then his fingertips barely traced the skin on the way back. Hermione flinched and laughed softly at the ticklish touch, curling up tight and grabbing his hand quickly.

"Forgot, sorry," he muttered sleepily. He actually did sound like he meant it. Teeth lightly bit her shoulder. She shivered, small bumps of pleasure rising up on her skin. What was he doing? With a start, she realized that there was something hard pressing against her body from behind. She flushed slightly at that. It didn't seem to bother him at all. Draco's tongue soothed the bite and his lips danced up the side of her neck. "That was very nice last night," he muttered against her neck, "Feel free to do that anytime." His teeth found her ear and Hermione sucked in a sharp breath at the strange pain-pleasure.

"What are you doing?" she muttered softly, afraid to ask, not wanting him to stop, not sure what she wanted. He didn't stop. His lips and tongue moved to toy with her neck again. _God_ that felt _good_!

"Imagine my surprise," Draco murmured into her ear, hand stroking her stomach again lightly, making her flinch slightly as it tickled her. "I fell asleep with a beautiful witch on my back, and I woke up with her in my arms… now, how did that happen?"

_Did he just call me beautiful?_ Hermione flushed, then gasped slightly as he bit her neck playfully. Oh, this was a little too much this early in the morning. He'd never acted… how could she describe it? Affectionate?

Embarrassed, a blush tingling in her cheeks, she said, "...maybe we should start getting ready for St. Mungo's…"

"Nope. You're gonna have to drag me." he chuckled, echoing words she thought he'd forgotten. "Too comfy." His fingertips very lightly brushed inside the hem of her pajama pants, trailing there, back and forth, back and forth, not daring to go any lower, but very clearly asking for permission. "...what do you think?" he pressed the back of his head to hers lightly, "...Time to get up... or…" his fingertips barely tugged at her underwear, the question unvoiced.

Hermione swallowed hard. She was aching for him to touch her. What would happen if he did? Would it go further? No one had ever asked her that. No one had ever touched her there… maybe she was a little too naive? Other girls her age had already had sex- they'd already done things that had made her blush to overhear in the common room. Did he think she'd done all that, too? Were they even close to the same page? Her mind went racing out of control.

He seemed to take her silence as a negative answer and kissed the back of her head softly, beginning to withdraw his hand. She surprised herself when she pressed her hand against his, stopping him, heart in her throat. "Draco… no one's ever… I haven't… I mean… I...I..." What was she saying? What would he think if he knew that she'd _never_ gone further than a kiss? She felt shy, afraid to ask for more, ashamed of her own lack of experience... but she _didn't_ want him to stop.

His whisper made her heart pound. "Just tell me yes or no… do you want more than a kiss, Granger?"

"Yes." Could he see how nervous she was? Could he feel it? What if this went too far? She had to say something, now, before she couldn't think straight. "D-Draco-"

"Clothes stay on… no sex, I promise." He kissed the side of her neck softly, pausing one moment longer until she nodded. "...tell me if you want me to stop." Draco's hand slid past her underwear. The sensation of his fingers so low on her body made her hold her breath. A maddening heartbeat drummed in her chest and against her back. He was just as nervous and excited as she was. That was comforting.

That did it. She felt the fear dissipate and couldn't restrain the moan that escaped her lips when his fingers stroked between her swollen, wet folds and found her clit. She put her palm out on the bed, other hand catching her curls and clenching into a fist near her temple... Almost unable to believe this was happening, body tightening, closing her eyes in pleasure.

He knew what he was doing. Soft, slow circles, pressure increasing and decreasing, speed changing a few times, making her shudder. How did he know? For several thousand heartbeats, his fingertips toyed with her. Eventually she was able to breathe again, twisting her hips against his hand. His fingers felt warm, and firm, and gentle all at the same time. His lips met her neck again and she cried out softly, that combination was too much! She almost stopped him then, but his fingers began to move a little faster in their circle and any thought of ending this went out the window.

_This _was what she'd wanted from him, and she hadn't known how to ask. Her fingers dug into the sheet under her body. "Yes…" she breathed, the words escaping her lips without permission, "Faster… please…"

His fingertips picked up speed as her breathing shifted. This was too good, and she wanted more. His hot tongue, soft lips and harsh little bites were sending sparks of pleasure through her body, combined with those talented fingers. She shook as a sudden strong wave of pleasure tore through her from head to toe- a sign she was definitely going to orgasm if he kept it up. She gasped, her knees drawing together tightly. His hand slipped away.

"Roll on your back," she couldn't even begin to deny that order. Hermione rolled to her back and his lips met hers, his hand found her clit again and she cried out against his mouth, neck arching back, but he didn't let go of her lips.

Draco pulled back as her hips rocked against his hand slightly. Her eyes fluttered open, catching his gaze. He was flushed in the face, eyes unguarded, somewhat intently watching her face. _Watching_ her writhe against his fingertips! His intense eyes seemed to devour that sight. She flushed deeply, turning her head away from him slightly, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Draco's teeth nipped lightly at her neck and she turned her head back towards him. His lips met hers and she forgot why she was embarrassed, moaning against his lips.

A sweet tightness was winding quickly in her body, heartbeat pulsing wildly out of control. She really was almost there! For one moment, she was almost ashamed- what would he think of her for letting him do this? Then the pleasure of an orgasm ripped through her and her entire body trembled hard, rising up off the bed, hand catching his wrist tightly to stop him. A soundless scream of pleasure caught in her throat.

His lips met hers, softly, as she came down, body relaxing, heartbeat hammering everywhere at once. His hand lay against her now, relaxed and still. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, a small smile on his lips. "I don't suppose you'd consider giving me one of those amazing back massages every night, in exchange for one of these in the mornings…"

His finger brushed her clit again and she cried out softly, "Too much!" What was he saying? A back massage? In exchange for… that?! Every morning?! She felt herself glowing crimson. How much could he make her blush?

He withdrew his hand with a playful smile, but Merlin those eyes looked serious! "...think about it."


	37. Chapter 37: Accident

**Chapter 37: Accident**

Draco liked the flush of color that seemed to linger in her neck all morning. Every time she met his eyes, he could see it rise again, see that shy smile creep onto her lips before she looked away. It made him want to kiss her every single time. He felt almost giddy recalling the look on her face, and the feeling of her body falling over the edge because of _him_. He really hoped she'd take him up on his offer.

Although, next time, they would remember to shut the damn door. Afterwards, they'd gone to the kitchen, where Percy had left a short, rushed scribbled note.

_Hermione and Draco- Consider closing the door next time. Breakfast this morning was somewhat awkwardly interrupted. Cheers. -Percy_

Hermione had squeaked, covered her face with both hands, and turned a brilliant shade of red. Was living here making her more capable of blushing? Is that what happened around the Weasley's? He felt a tinge in his own face. He'd completely forgotten anyone else was in the house. They'd managed to laugh it off, she'd gone to shower, and he'd started cooking something. She seemed surprised to come downstairs and find him turning sausages with his wand. He'd gone to quickly shower, and returned to join her for breakfast. The Daily Prophet had swooped in, and she had laid it out on the table to read as they ate. Draco flicked his wand to summon the reading glasses, narrowing his eyes at her as she bit back a grin, and sat next to her with his plate.

A sudden thought occurred to him.

This felt good. Simple, even. He liked falling asleep with her, waking with her, making her moan, cooking her food, eating with her. What was she doing to him? He'd never liked sleeping with anyone- it was always too hot. Bringing pleasure to another had almost always been a means to an end, but here he was, more excited to put his hands on her than to have her hands on him. Cooking for someone else? Sitting and eating breakfast, reading the Daily Prophet with her, wearing these ridiculous glasses?

He wanted more of this.

After their trip to St. Mungo's, they arrived at Ollivander's shop. Since Mr. Ollivander had wanted her to bring Draco back with her, Hermione was certain that he would be safe from any attack. Draco had secretly penned a letter to Mr. Ollivander when Hermione had been in for her treatment. There was no way he'd show up to that shop unannounced!

Mr. Ollivander was waiting for them. He calmly flipped the sign to closed and took them to the back room. Hermione had warned him of the old man's strange habit with wands. Draco wasn't entirely pleased, but he relinquished his wand outside the strange room.

A table set for tea for three sat there. Draco took his seat next to Hermione. Mr. Ollivander took the teapot and poured for all three of them. Damn old Wizards and their courtesies- there was no way he could avoid drinking it if he wanted any answers! Mr. Ollivander raised his cup first and took a long sip, shuddering and reaching for the sugar, adding a cube, stirring with his spoon. "I think it steeped too long. My apologies. This is always harder for me to do by hand than by magic."

Draco lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. It was bitter. What kind of tea was this? He took a second sip to be polite and put it back down. Hermione also made a face. She took a small spoon of honey and stirred it into her tea.

"Now then," Mr. Ollivander put his hands together, peering at the two of them from over his fingertips. "I asked Miss Granger to return with you, and I'm glad to see you agreed. My apologies again for my behavior." Useless words. Obligatory. The only thing he was sorry about was the shield charm stopping the attack. He held Draco's eyes. "I would be happy to answer your questions, if you would consent to answer a few of my own."

Draco nodded, silent. It depended on the question, but he'd be happy to play along. "Of course, Mr. Ollivander. What do you want to know?"

A smile split the old man's lips. He deliberately took another sip of tea. Draco _hated_ this. That single motion told him Mr. Ollivander was the type to play a very subtle game, one Draco had been forced to learn through his interactions with his Father. No wonder Granger had been so frustrated leaving the shop. Muggle-born, she couldn't recognize the subtle hints and clues that Ollivander was laying out in order to assure cooperation. If they didn't play, Ollivander would merely kick them out again. The potion for his mother was almost done. They didn't have time for this. Draco picked up his own cup, taking another bitter sip, and then sat back in his chair, hands wrapped around the delicate glass, trying to appear calm and relaxed. Mr. Ollivander's eyes flickered to Hermione. She didn't understand.

"She's muggle-born, Ollivander, she's not going to get it." Draco said softly, taking a second sip of his tea for her. "Leave her out of it."

"What?" Hermione asked in confusion, looking to the two of them.

"Just drink your tea," Draco said evenly, gaze not leaving Ollivander's. "Understand me, sir?" Ollivander's eyes twinkled slightly. He accepted. Draco would have to step lightly. Hermione's ignorance in this situation meant he couldn't slip, not once.

"Very well." Ollivander lifted a tray of sweets from his side and placed them in the middle of the table, taking one himself, "I insist you try my treacle fudge. It's an old family recipe!"

Draco took one, and began to eat it slowly. The sweetness was a welcome relief to the bitterness of the tea. Hermione copied him. Intelligent girl, she knew she was missing something and now she was trying to pick it up. She needed a few books on old Wizarding families. It would do her good to learn a few of the old tricks and courtesies. There were several at the new Manor that drifted through his mind, but he shoved the thoughts away for now.

After he'd eaten it, he muttered a polite compliment about Ollivander's family and skill with confections. Hermione obviously didn't like this treacle fudge, but Ollivander seemed to excuse the slight face she'd made when she'd swallowed it. The old man took another sip of tea, emptying his cup. Hermione and Draco did the same. He placed his cup down, and Draco took the teapot to refill for the table. Hermione tried to catch his eye, but he couldn't get distracted. One false step now, and they would never get the answer from this stubborn old crow.

"What questions do you have, sir?" Draco asked, keeping his tone even and respectful as he placed the teapot down.

"I am glad you asked," Ollivander began, placing his arms down on the table. "It is merely a curiosity of mine. If it's too much trouble-"

"Of course it's trouble, you batty old fool," Draco replied easily, "Just get on with it."

He froze. What the fuck had just happened? Hermione was staring at him. He could feel her eyes boring into his face, but he tried to ignore it. "Oh, very good," Ollivander smiled more fully, hands finally falling down to rest on the table. "I was hoping it'd be clear when you were ready."

"What?" Draco whispered, stunned. He'd never faltered like this! What had happened?

"Miss Granger, when and how did your want begin to work for Mr. Malfoy's? Does his wand work for you?"

"A few weeks ago," Hermione answered immediately, "He healed a cut in my hand with my wand after it wouldn't work for Ginny. I've never used his wand." She paled, putting a hand to her lips in surprise.

"And Mr. Malfoy, have you ever been able to work a wand in this way? How would you describe its function?"

"Never," Draco responded firmly, "It feels like part of my arm, as easy to use as my own wand." He threw the cup across the room, fury bubbling inside his chest. "You laced all of this with Veritaserum, didn't you? You crazy fool! You consumed it yourself!"

"Indeed. I wanted truths." Ollivander replied easily, continuing on as though it were perfectly normal to drug himself with his guests. "Now my suspicion is that it takes a certain level of physical and emotional intimacy for wands to react this way. Miss Granger, pardon my bluntness, for the Veritaserum makes it impossible to be delicate. Has Mr. Malfoy deflowered you?"

"I'm still a virgin." Hermione spoke. She put both hands suddenly over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, a single one escaping, going red in the face. Shame? Fear? What? Why! Why was she crying over something so stupid? He slammed both hands to the table, standing, locking eyes with the fool he now wanted to throttle.

"How _**dare**_ you make _**my **_witch cry!" Draco growled darkly at the vile old man. He took Hermione gently by the elbow, leading her to the door.

"Mr. Malfoy, why is she your witch?"

"Because I-" _love her._

The thought finished in his mind as Hermione put both hands over Draco's mouth. She was crying more now, almost afraid to meet his eyes, shaking her head no, "Don't answer anymore questions, Draco. Please… I want to leave…"

They stood awkwardly in the Manor after that. He was afraid to speak. How much veritaserum had they consumed? He didn't have an antidote prepared. How long would it take for the effects to wear off? She seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "I need to brew something," Draco muttered. His fingers were itching for a task. "What do you want to do?"

"Crawl under a rock," Hermione whispered, going red again. He lightly put his arm around her side, squeezing gently. She rested her head against his chest for a moment. "...can we avoid questions, right now, Draco?"

He nodded, keeping his arm around her, guiding her gently. "I'll set you up in the library's reading nook. I think you'll find it relaxing." Draco had set up this nook himself. It was a rounded chair in the sun of the window, and many interesting books were still stacked all around. He could nearly feel the tension drifting from her at the sight. Before he left her for the potion lab, he stole one soft kiss to her lips. Damn that impertinent old man! He wanted to talk to her about this, but not when the veritaserum controlled her responses. That wouldn't be fair.

Back in his laboratory, Draco first checked on his mother's potion and triple checked the sealing charm that would protect it from any outside contamination. Everything was going as it should. Excellent. Mind wandering, he began to tinker with the dreamless sleep potion again. He'd done more calculations, with information drawn from the green and silver book. There was a way to make it non-habit forming.

As he worked, Ollivander's question burned into his mind again. "_Mr. Malfoy, why is she your witch?" "Because I-" love her. _Veritaserum made it so he couldn't lie, not even to himself. That's what this was, then? Should it frighten him? Oddly, it felt… easy to accept. He'd known for a while now, if he were being honest with himself… but he hadn't wanted to be. Part of that was because of her. She didn't seem to want to talk about it, and he'd be damned if he brought it up. Had she known today what the potion would've made him say? Did she stop him on purpose?

The thought made his hand slip. A vial shattered and he got a facefull of a fine powder. He coughed violently, flicking his wand to be rid of it and stumbling out of the lab quickly, coughing even harder. Everything spun wildly.

"Draco?!" He stumbled drunkenly from the potion lab. What had he dropped? "Come on, let's get you to bed." His body leaned heavily on another, and his feet moved blindly. He was suddenly so tired, and too hot. Draco pulled away, recognizing his bedroom, one last coherent thought finding his brain. His clothes could still be contaminated. He ripped off his shirt, throwing it aside, then tore off his pants and boxers down, stepping out of them unsteadily while stumbling to his bed, falling face first into the softness. Being naked felt amazing against these sheets. He felt cooler, and more relaxed. It wasn't long before darkness took him away.


	38. Chapter 38: Curiosity

**Chapter 38: Curiosity**

Hermione liked this cozy reading corner. Crookshanks would enjoy, it too, she thought with a soft smile. It quickly faded. Ollivander's awful trick replayed in her mind. Her fingers held the book tightly. She'd barely started trying to read because everything kept repeating in her mind's eye. Draco had understood Ollivander was looking for something- how had she missed that? It seemed more obvious once she attempted to pay attention for it. The bitter taste of the tea still lingered on her tongue. "Why would you do that?" she whispered to herself, book falling, forgotten into her lap.

Her heart hammered softly in her chest as she remembered how ashamed she felt at Mr. Ollivander's unexpected rudeness, her honest answer. She'd never said that aloud. And now she'd said it in front of him and Draco? Her face reddened again just thinking about it. Then, she saw Draco slam his hands on the table- his face and body snapped like a snake. He had looked ready to strike the old man. "_How __**dare**_ _you make __**my **__witch cry!"_

My witch. His witch. That answered a question for her- he had claimed her… and if she had to follow that train of thought, she had to admit she'd claimed him as well. But that hadn't been enough for the sly wandmaker. He'd pushed, even as Draco began to guide them from the room. "_Mr. Malfoy, why is she your witch?" "Because I-" _She closed her eyes, dropping the book to the floor with a soft clutter, putting both hands over her mouth, recalling the way his fingers had moved in her palm. He didn't- he couldn't- but he did! He could! She'd heard him, she'd felt the words as his lips moved in her hand. He'd whispered it, even though she'd tried to stop him. _Love her._

Why was she so afraid to hear him say it? She desperately hadn't wanted that first time because of the truth telling potion- in front of Ollivander- forced out of him without any control. That felt… rude? Rushed? Too honest? For someone who she was starting to read for clues about truth or lies, such a bold truth had unsettled her. In her mind, she was _convinced_ he wouldn't dare to be that straightforward right away! She knew it was true. She'd started to feel it, when his kisses became gentler, when he'd seemed to soften slightly towards her recently. There was no other explanation.

Hearing Draco speak those words meant she had to be honest with herself, and _that_ frightened her. Bits of Ron's words still haunted her. _I don't want to watch him make you fall for him, to use you, and then throw you aside like you mean nothing._ Hermione truly didn't believe that Draco would do that, but there was a slight nagging fear. What if he thought she were being too easy, letting him touch her so intimately? What if he didn't want to be with a virgin? He obviously had more experience than she did. Would he think her less attractive, unintelligent about sex? What if she didn't know what she was doing, and he didn't want to teach her? What if he had been playing that game Ollivander played, laying out subtle hints, and she hadn't caught them? That was a painful thought. What if he changed his mind? What if he _didn't_ really love her?

That one hurt the most. She had no reason to doubt him, only her own doubts swirling in her mind. _I love him._ Hermione's eyes shot open as the thought floated gently through her mind. The phoenix necklace at her chest gave a sudden pulse. She stood, heart in her throat. Could she say it? Could she tell him she'd heard him, and she felt the same way? She didn't know. But very suddenly, she didn't want to be alone in this nook without him. Hermione ran out of the library to the main hall, turning, trying to guess where his potion lab would be. He liked the sun for his lab, didn't he? About to run down a hall, she heard a horrible coughing fit. A door opened nearby and Draco stumbled out, the coughing louder and more terrible.

"Draco?!" Hermione rushed to him and caught him against her side. He leaned heavily on her for a moment. They stumbled together back towards the library. What had happened? He looked ready to fall asleep. "Come on, let's get you to bed." One glance at his clothes and the scent and his strange, heavy eyelids told her the source of this- he'd been messing with a sleeping draft. No! Had he been playing around with the Draught of Living Death again? But he'd promised! She was jumping to conclusions. There were a bunch of potions that used similar ingredients. The calming draft of his, a normal dreamless sleep- and he looked like he was in no condition to answer questions.

They were managing to make it through the tall shelves towards his bedroom door. Once they made it to his room, Draco pulled away from her, stumbling towards his bed. She froze as she watched him, stripping, completely oblivious that she was still there. He ripped off his shirt, throwing it aside, then tore off his pants and boxers down, stepping out of them unsteadily while stumbling to his bed. Hermione squealed embarrassedly, covering her face with both hands for a moment when she got a long look at his bare backside. She peeked between her fingers to see he had fallen face first into the mattress.

Calming her racing heart, she hurried to his clothes. Why had he done that? It was almost comical, if not for the coughing fit she'd heard. Hermione quickly picked up his shirt and gave it a rough shake. Powder floated up from the fabric. She inhaled it, then began to cough as well. Damn! Now she understood. It could've been crushed lavender or powdered asphodel petals, or a blend- it was the drowsiness ingredient, whatever it was, and more potent than normal. What had he been doing? His shirt slipped through her fingers as she coughed, stumbling back to the bed as well, falling. Did she make it to the bed? Her eyes closed. How had he managed to stay awake so long?

When her eyes fluttered open again, it was dark. She smiled at finally having slept in this large, comfortable bed, turning her head to the side to look at him. Draco was laying on his back now, at the other side of the large bed, out of reach. It looked like he might've been awake, she couldn't tell for sure. He sucked in a sharp breath, holding it, head pressing back against the pillow, exhaling slowly. She saw his arm moving. Eyes adjusted to the dark, she flushed darkly when she saw he was touching himself! Right there, next to her! "...Hermione," he moaned softly, she saw his hand moving faster.

"Y-yes?" she whispered hesitantly.

"Hermione?!" he yelped in shock. Draco nearly leapt out of his skin at her voice. He bolted straight up in bed. His hand shot up to grab a pillow and he covered his naked lap, hiding his erection. His eyes met hers, stunned, surprised, confused, embarrassed. "How… why… What are you _doing_ here?!"

"What happened in your lab?" She sat up to her knees, glaring at him. There was no way she was answering any questions first!

"I dropped a vial for the dreamless sleep draft." he muttered, pushing his hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "I think there's a way to make it non-habit forming... I've developed a bit of a tolerance to it and I've been trying not to use it lately."

_Oh thank goodness…_ The main concern was gone. That wasn't his lying tone or his lying face. Her eyes flickered to the pillow in his lap. His hand tightened against it self consciously. She scooched a little closer. He tensed and she paused. "...what were you doing?" she asked innocently.

"You haven't explained what you're doing here," he snapped, flushing red, grip tightening against the pillow in his hand. She hadn't seen him worked up like this before. "For that matter, why am I here? I should've dropped in the lab."

"I found you and brought you back to your room," she replied simply, "You… stripped… and fell in to bed. I shook your clothes to try to figure out what had happened- and it got me, too."

"Granger, that was reckless and stupid." He growled coldly, "If I'd been mucking about with worse ingredients-"

"Then you'd have been breaking a promise!" she snapped back. Draco's irritated face melted away. His shoulders relaxed slightly.

"I didn't mean…" he spoke softly this time, "Hermione… I just meant I don't want you to take a risk like that. Just use your wand to analyze it, next time, okay?"

"Next time?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Accidents happen," he shrugged, "I'm not proud enough to think I'm immune."

Hermione slid closer to him. He tensed, about to stand to get away from her. She gently put a hand in his arm and he froze, closing his eyes. He was trying to get that calm, collected face back. Not if she could help it. The playfulness that she felt surprised her. "...what were you doing?" she repeated, softer, enjoying the embarrassed look on his face.

"You know what I was doing." he hissed, eyes flashing at her. He tried to pull her hand off his arm. "Granger, get out. Give me five minutes and we can head back to the B-" the word died in his throat as she took the pillow in her other hand and gave it a playful tug. He wouldn't let it go. She saw him swallow hard, could nearly feel his heart racing from here. "...what are you doing?" he whispered.

Not answering, Hermione sat up on her knees, pressing her lips to kiss him and push him to his back. He still wouldn't let go of that pillow. She gave it another gentle tug but he resisted. Once she had him down, she pressed her palm against his tight fist gently, kneeling next to him. Her other hand pressed lightly to his arm. "...does this mean no?"

He looked at a loss for words. Hermione gave him a few moments to decide. She could see the flush in his neck and face- more than she had ever seen. He moved her hand to his stomach, and pulled the pillow away, letting it fall to the floor. "Just hands, Granger," his voice was rougher than she was used to hearing it. She nodded in agreement, tracing her nails along his stomach for a moment, examining his body. He closed his eyes as she did that. She liked what she saw.

And for the first time, she saw a hard, vertical erection between his legs. Hermione reached for it in her hand, taking it lightly, stroking her fingers up and down. Draco sucked in a breath and held it at her touch. He was already a little wet at the tip. She circled her thumb at the wetness, and he put one hands to his over his eyes for a moment, body giving a violent little spasm. Should she keep it light and soft? Was that one spot better than anywhere else?

"How do I… make you…" Hermione blushed, she wanted some help here, but she didn't want to ask too many questions.

He lowered his hand from his face, exhaling hard, "...you're doing fine. Just think of it like a broomstick handle. You're not going to-" Hermione tightened her grasp, full hand around him and began to slowly move up and down his shaft. "-oh _fuck_ yes!"

Draco's head rocked back against the pillow behind him and he tensed tight as a bow string. He was panting. She kept at it, slow and steady. He shook slightly with every caress. One of his hands met hers and encouraged a faster pace. She obliged, and enjoyed the sensation of his hand sliding away from her, seeing him clench the bedding tightly in his fist, tossing his head to the side in pleasure.

Hermione leaned over him to kiss, lick and bite his neck the way he had done to her. He shuddered continuously as she continued, soft breathless curses occasionally escaping his lips. Was it her imagination, or was he growing harder in her hand?

A low moan escaped his mouth- "Oh… Hermione," she'd never heard her name spoken like that. He felt much harder in her palm. His eyes were begging her to kiss him. She obliged, and his back arched slightly as her tongue pressed against his. He was throbbing between her fingers, and there was something wet sliding along the back of her hand. She didn't stop until he took her wrist and suddenly rolled over her, pinning her to the bed and kissing her softly- body still shaking. He pressed his forehead against hers, then placed a kiss there before standing. Hermione rolled on her side to watch him. He rummaged in his pants and then flicked his wand. The wetness disappeared.

Draco lay back on the bed next to her, spooning her body and kissing the back of her head. They stayed that was for a long while, so long she thought he might've drifted off to sleep again. He shifted slightly, and sighed against her hair. "...can we just stay here tonight?" He asked quietly.

Hermione smiled and nodded. Draco stood and went to his dresser. He returned with a long, soft button down shirt and a pair of shorts. "You can summon your own clothes, if you want. I'll be right back." He disappeared to the bathroom.

Hermione took off everything except her underwear, and only put on the long shirt when she realized the shorts were his boxers. That made her flush slightly. Why didn't he have pajamas? She was just putting her clothes in a neat pile on the side table when Draco walked in, then stopped, staring at her from the doorway.

She hopped on the bed, snuggling under the light summer comforter. Draco chuckled and walked over to slide in beside her. They lay there on their sides for a few moments, she was smiling almost shyly. She didn't know what to name his expression. Draco reached out a hand to brush her hair as he leaned over to kiss her softly, "...goodnight."


	39. Chapter 39: Ollivander

**Chapter 39: Ollivander**

Draco woke, laying on his back. Last night replayed in his mind and he found a smile splitting his face as he flicked his wand at his mouth to clean it. That had truly been an unexpected delight. The sunlight in the room was low and soft. It must've been very early. A few rays of light danced in through the windows. He rolled to his side, propping himself up on an elbow to look at her. His heart throbbed in his chest.

Hermione was on her back, hair a fantastic mess, one hand relaxed across her body, the other bent at her elbow, fingers curled slightly at her forehead. His shirt had unbuttoned some during the night, and one of her beautiful breasts was fully exposed. The color around the relaxed nipple was the same as her lips. How did he ever manage to get his hands on such a gorgeous woman?

_You don't deserve her._ The evil little voice in his mind whispered.

_Of course not. _Draco agreed. _But as long as she wants me… I'm hers._

Somehow, he didn't think she'd like that he'd seen her like this. Draco sat up slowly so as not to disturb her. He gave a gentle tug on the fabric to cover her breast and his fingers deftly re-buttoned the shirt. She murmured softly, rolling towards him, to her side. His fingers began to stroke her hair softly. Her eyes fluttered open heavily not long later. "G'morning…" she muttered sleepily.

"Morning," he echoed softly. She yawned and covered her mouth, stretching. She made a sudden face, moving to sit up. "Toothbrush…"

Draco wordlessly took his wand and cast the spell at her again. She jumped as she had that day in the hammock. Good thing a bed couldn't flip. "You're gonna have to teach me that one."

"I'm surprised you don't know it already." He kept his lap covered as he propped the pillows up behind him to sit up against the headboard. She followed him, pressing her head to his chest as she hugged him. His heart did a strange little flutter at that.

"My parents are dentists," she muttered quietly. "They didn't really understand a lot to do with magic… So I just kept doing things normally."

"Dentists?" He frowned as he repeated the foreign word. "What is that?"

"They clean and repair teeth," she explained simply.

"...I thought that was why Muggles used toothbrushes?" He asked slowly.

"Well, sometimes they don't do it right and they get cavities."

"...Granger if I didn't know you better, I'd swear you're making up words." He grumbled, irritated that he didn't understand what she was talking about. "What the hell are cavities?"

"Oh, I forgot you don't know much about non-wizards." She told her head up to him. "Cavities are holes in the teeth. My parents can drill them out and refill the tooth."

He made a face, "Holes in the teeth? Drills? You're not serious!"

She laughed, squeezing him slightly. "You'll have to ask them about it sometime…oh… but...you can't..." she suddenly stopped, he felt her arms slacken around him. Silently, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. That was a memory slip. She hadn't had one of those for a while now.

He rubbed a hand lightly up and down her arm. She cleared her throat and tried to change topics. "Why don't you own any pajamas?"

"I hate sleeping in clothes," he replied simply, springing a curl in her hair.

"But didn't you have to wear them in the dormitory at Hogwarts?"

Draco looked at the top of her head, confused. "I wouldn't go wandering out in the common room in my birthday suit, Granger." A sudden thought hit him. "Bloody hell- did you Gryffindors _share_ rooms?" Her head nodded. His eyes widened. "Merlin! No wonder the lot of you have no concept of personal space!"

"You had your own room?" She asked, surprised while sitting up to look at him.

"Slytherin not having their own holes to hide in would result in a full house of mental breakdowns or murder. We're not exactly pack animals." Draco replied easily, "I couldn't imagine sleeping in the same room as _any_ of them. I'd have cracked and Kadavra'd someone within a month."

Her stomach gave a loud rumble and she flushed at the sound. He smirked slightly. "C'mon, there's probably breakfast already made, knowing my mother's elves."

As he stood, the covers fell away from his naked body. She made an interesting squeaking sound behind him while covering her face with a pillow. He grinned to himself as he went to his dresser. While he could have waved his wand and been dressed in a heartbeat, it was much more fun to toy with her like this.

Breakfast had been brought to them about five minutes later. They ate in a comfortable silence. After showering, changing, and checking on the potions for the day, they were off to St. Mungo's. Before Hermione went off on her own, he lightly hinted that she may want to mention the memory slip to her healer, maybe up the potency of some of her potions. She nodded silently in agreement.

His mind began to wander as he turned to the door across the hall, pulling out the silver and green volume as he walked. Maybe there was something he had missed, maybe he could figure out the bit about the wand on his own. Barely any time left now for his mother's potion… but Ollivander-

Ollivander?! The bastard was sitting at his mother's bedside. Those strange eyes flickered from Draco to the book in his arm and suddenly widened in shock. The old man stood suddenly, mouth nearly hanging open. Draco shoved the book back in his bag immediately. Anything Ollivander looked at like that needed to be kept far from his hands. Tense silence hung in the air.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Draco growled.

Ollivander slowly sat back down, expression different now. There was no trace of loathing or indifference. "...I came to answer your questions, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco was seething. For several long minutes he was silent, trying to calm his rage. The silence didn't help. He was getting angrier. He clenched a fist. "Yeah? Start with why you drugged us."

"I was testing part of my theory." Ollivander replied easily. "Some records exist of wands reacting of their own volition to their Master being provoked. Granted, mostly in life or death cases… but I wondered if it were possible in less dire circumstances. Very deep magic. I've heard a few stories. While I have never witnessed such a thing… I was curious if they would enter the chamber." He shrugged. "It also didn't hurt to guarantee honest answers for my research."

The uncomfortable silence stretched on again for too long after that. Draco wanted to hurt him for making Hermione cry. He was about to risk it when something strange happened. The old man turned his eyes to Narcissa, eyes softening as his withered hand lightly patted hers. "I understand why you came to see me now. I didn't ever expect this…"

Ollivander waved his wand and a strange box appeared by Narcissa's bed. "Place the wand that cast the spell in the box. You'll need a memory of the attack to go here." He tapped a miniature pensieve with a hole in the bottom. "The wand will act exactly the same as it did in that memory. You'll need the blood of the victim in the box as well. No more than a vial, the quantity is unimportant. Once the blood has taken the curse, add it to your cauldron."

Draco felt his mind go numb. Ollivander stood again, beginning to walk past him. His hand shot out to catch the old man by the arm, unable to turn his head, unable to meet his eyes. "How… how did you know? Do you know who wrote that book?"

"Indeed… But I made the unbreakable vow, Mr. Malfoy. There is nothing else for me to say." Ollivander pulled his arm away and vanished through the door behind him.

Draco stood there, frozen in disbelief. It was that simple? Why hadn't it just been included in the notes? Why did Ollivander have that object? Who had written the book? Why had the author made the old wand maker take an unbreakable vow of silence? If the crazed fool was telling the truth, he'd never find out. That would irk him later… but now… he could bring her back. No, they could. Together. Now they had everything they needed. Everything! He smiled at his mother from across the room.

The door opened behind him and Hermione came in, a puzzled look on her face. "Did you see that? Mr. Ollivander just apologized to me in the- Draco!"

He was laughing. It bubbled out of him. He whirled around, taking her tightly in his arms and swinging her around in a quick circle. He put her back on her feet and kissed her lovingly. "Hermione, Ollivander told me how to do it! We can bring her back. We can fix this!" He held her head in two hands, and moved to hold her face between his palms and kiss her again, softer, then press his forehead to hers. "...you're going to be alright..."

A healer stepped into the room, pausing at the sight of them together. "Mr. Malfoy… could I speak with you for a moment?"

He slowly released Hermione. She was pink in the face at being caught at the public display of affection. She looked confused. "Amy? Why do you need Draco?"

"Healer Thomas is unwell. I need to update him about his mother."

Feeling light as air, he followed Amy across the hall. She took him to a room with soft blue walls and then turned to him slowly. "... Hermione has experienced a sudden acceleration of damage. It is my belief that any sudden physiological, physical or emotional trauma will have a powerful impact on her…" Amy crossed her arms over her chest. "...she said you had an accident in a potion lab?"

Draco felt his breath catch. The lightness vanished. He sat down in the chair behind him, one hand flat on the table. "... she got worse because of that?"

"I can't confirm what I'm telling you." Amy said quietly. "...but the two of you appear to have grown close recently. I suspect that if anyone she is close to were harmed… It would continue to accelerate her damage."

"...understood." He narrowed his eyes. This should have been confidential. "Why are you telling me this?"

"...she slipped and told me she had decided on your experimental treatment."

Draco went still. "She must have been confuse-"

"Don't." Amy waved a hand at him, "Don't even try to lie to me." The small witch was staring at him accusingly now.

Alright… he couldn't lie his way out of this one. "...she told you the truth, then." Draco folded his hands together, sitting back in the chair, trying to appear relaxed. "I intend to test it on my mother next week. Hermione's potion will take a year-"

"Do you realize how fragile their minds are?" Amy spoke softly. "If your experiment were to fail… do you know what the potential long term damage could be?"

The results of the trails screamed through his head. Death or oblivion forever. He swallowed hard. "Yes… and so does Hermione. We're working together on this, Healer. It's going to work."

Amy pursed her lips together. "I should have you banned from this hospital. You're knowingly and willingly putting two mental patients at risk."

"Why don't you?" He asked quietly, remaining calm although the thought almost made him panic.

"Oh, I fully intend to do so, unless..." Amy sat down at a table, folding her hands on top of it. "...you can convince me that it absolutely _will_ _not fail_."


	40. Chapter 40: Lover

**Chapter 40: Lover**

Hermione sat nervously by Narcissa's bed, deciding that anymore pacing in this room would drive her mad. Was everything okay? She folded her hands on the edge of the bed, sitting on the edge of her chair. They were talking for such a long time. She worriedly glanced at the woman who was sitting up, looking about the room without focus. Had something happened to Narcissa? Was something wrong? That made her anxious and sad. Draco didn't need anything else to worry about.

She sprung to her feet when a Healer opened the door. Hermione's stomach twisted slightly. Healer Thomas? But… hadn't Amy just said he was ill? Thomas wasn't there to check on Narcissa this time. He merely wandered in, nodding at her in acknowledgement, searching for something. Thomas found a clipboard and summoned it to him before turning around and walking from the room.

Hermione slowly sat back down, pressing her hands to the edge of the bed. Why would Amy lie about that? It didn't make any sense. Strangely, a flicker of anger and almost jealousy rippled through her body. What was Amy playing at?

Hermione felt a hand close tightly atop hers and jumped. She turned sharply to lock eyes with Narcissa Malfoy. Focused! Connected! The witch looked like she could see her! She was about to yell for Draco and the Healer when a vision began to swim in front of her eyes.

"_Stop it," Lucius' soft voice muttered as he kissed the top of her head. "It's alright."_

"_It's not alright!" she argued, sobbing harder. Her face was buried against his chest, she held onto him for dear life as the grief rolled through her. "Lucius… we can't have any more children… it's not alright!" Her fingers dug into his shirt, "I… I wanted your s-sons, I wanted your d-daughters… and n-now…" She sobbed, her body shaking as she clung to him._

_Her husband took her chin a bit roughly with his thumb and finger and pulled her face towards his. His lips made her feet stick to the floor. Her brain was forgetting why she was upset. His kisses did that. Narcissa sighed softly as he held her face between his palms and kissed her again, and again, each one softer than the last before pressing his forehead to hers. "Narcissa. We have a son. It's enough. You're going to be alright, my love."_

_A whirlwind of confused, disconnected images and soft kisses, a soft hand squeezing her shoulder in public, a forehead touching hers, lingering there in private. Lucius' voice, soft and surprisingly warm or calm or gentle spoke many times, overlapping atop the images. His laughter also seemed to bubble around the edges of everything. When she was angry with him. "Look at me, Narcissa." Sad. "It's alright." Scared. "You're going to be okay." Miserable. "I thought I'd avoided your tears, tonight, wife…" Confused. "It'll be alright, stop crying, you silly witch." Anything. "You're going to be alright, my love."_

Hermione wrenched her hand away, standing, stumbling back from the bed to the wall. Heart racing in her chest, blood pounding in her throat, butterflies alive and in full flight in her stomach. Narcissa's strongly focused eyes faded, and she was soon standing, wandering aimlessly about the room once more.

Those eyes. Draco had a few striking similarities to his father. She remembered him touching her face like that when she had gone through his bag. "_Don't change the subject." He took her chin in one hand, pressing his thumb a bit harder than he should have, and forced her eyes up to him._

When he had healed her hand… _His hand brushed the tears away from her cheeks. "...I thought I'd avoided your tears tonight."_

After the secret chamber... _Draco held her face in both hands, turning her to him, and placed a soft kiss on her lips, placing his forehead against hers. Her hands came to the back of his head, holding him there, pressing her forehead back against his._

She had felt him kiss her that way, just a few moments ago. _He held her head in two hands, and moved to hold her face between his palms and kiss her again, softer, then press his forehead to hers. "...you're going to be alright..."_

"...my love..." Hermione finished in a breathless whisper. She put both hands over her mouth, staring at Narcissa. How had she _known_? How had she been able to share that with Hermione? Draco said he'd tried to reach her mind, but he couldn't. How could Narcissa reach her, but not her own son? That didn't make sense!

Her heart pounded again as it all rushed through her mind, analyzing every detail. He'd learned how to do all of that from watching his Father. Draco had been saying it a lot longer than she realized, but she hadn't heard him. Maybe he hadn't even realized what he had been doing. Several other moments flickered through her mind, only pausing when the door slowly opened.

Amy was standing there with Draco. He was nodding his head, muttering something that she couldn't hear. The short woman with perfectly straight black hair seemed to be smiling at him, almost too much. Hermione put her hands from her mouth, head tilted in confusion. What the hell was going on? However, the moment he shut the door and looked across the room, his eyes caught hers and he grinned at _her_, not at Amy. That set off everything in her chest like a firecracker.

He walked across the room to her, almost looking like he couldn't contain himself. Hermione didn't move. The smile on his face had glued her feet to the floor. Wordlessly, he stepped to her, taking her face between his hands, kissing her hard on the mouth, then softer, then softest, resting his forehead against hers. _Godric Gryffindor, save me…_ Hermione swallowed hard. _Does he know what he's saying?_

"Healer Amy is going to help with the treatment," Draco said softly, his thumb lightly brushing one cheek as he pulled away from her slowly. "She and Healer Thomas are going to sit down with all the calculations and make sure we haven't missed anything."

"What?" That startled her. "But I thought we weren't telling them about this? I thought-"

A sudden cold realization hit her. Hermione had been telling Amy about the memory slip this morning, and she'd mentioned the potion she and Draco were working on, that would be ready next year. How could she have done that, and not caught it until now? How much had the damage increased? Is that why Amy had upped all of the maintenance potions instead of a few? She bit her lip softly before speaking. "...I told her, didn't I?" Tears were welling in her eyes before she could stop it. She was afraid. "Amy increased all of the maintenance potions," she muttered before she could stop herself, "All of them… what happened? She said the damage was supposed to be slow."

"It is slow," Draco's arms suddenly held her again. She clenched her fingers tightly in the front of his shirt, heart racing painfully in her chest. She felt the tears break down her cheeks. "Random spikes and drops are perfectly normal. Besides, once we finish the daily draft, you won't need to increase the potions again." She felt his fingers pulling softly on a few curls. "Now stop crying, you silly witch, it's going to be alright."

All the breath went out of her with that sentence. Her palms flattened against his chest. "Am I really your witch?" she muttered before she could stop herself. His words brought back Narcissa's vision, brought back Ollivander's crude questions, his almost answer- and she couldn't stop herself from asking this time.

He tensed and paused for a moment while playing with her hair. "Hermione, why-"

_No. Don't argue with me. Answer me!_

"Yes or no, Draco, am I really your witch?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, afraid that he'd say no. Why had she asked him here? Why hadn't she waited for him to bring it up? This was hell! She felt his heart suddenly beat harder and faster in his chest. His hand smoothed her hair as he kissed the top of her head, then lingered there, silent. Both arms went slowly around her waist and squeezed gently.

It felt like an age before she felt him nodding soundlessly against the top of her head. Hermione felt like crying in relief. She relaxed in his arms, fingers curling in his shirt again. He cleared his throat softly before speaking. "...do you want to be?"

Answering a question with a question. How like him. She found herself nodding against his chest, unable to find her voice. Draco's hand came to her chin and pulled her lips up to his. This kiss took her breath away. "My witch," he whispered as he pulled away, catching her eyes. Such intense, warm, silver eyes… but he looked almost apprehensive as the next words escaped his lips, barely words, barely audible. He closed his eyes to hide that as he pressed his forehead to hers again, "...what does that make me to you, Hermione?"

He was _just_ as afraid of her answer as she had been of his. For a moment, she almost said my wizard. But she paused. He was more than that to her. Witch and wizards might use those as terms of endearment, and she absolutely adored him calling her _my witch..._ but she had always had a soft spot for a different label. It was a muggle term. Maybe he wouldn't understand, but…

Hermione took his face in her hands, whispering the words back before pressing her lips to his softly. "...my lover."


	41. Chapter 41: Lovers

**Chapter 41: Lovers**

Her soft hands held his face. He'd never felt this exposed. "...my lover." Draco felt his heart stop in his chest as her lips sealed over his. They weren't exactly lovers... not yet, at least. Was this her way of asking? Was this pet name her way of telling him she was ready for more? It must've been. But it couldn't be. Could it? This was suddenly _not _a conversation he felt comfortable having with his mother in the room, mind status be damned!

The door opened behind them and he heard someone enter without pausing. The feet came to an abrupt halt halfway across the room. "Oh! Erm… hello again."

Draco had never been more grateful for Neville Longbottom. He lightly pulled back from her lips, holding her fingers in his and pulling her hands down, stepping away. She was pink in the face again. "We should probably continue this conversation back at the Manor," he said very quietly. She nodded embarrassedly, moving to gather her things.

Draco nodded his head at Neville, who quickly turned away to busy himself with one of the plants in the room. Draco picked up Ollivander's strange box. He would need to go to the potion lab to secure this before they continued speaking. In fact, he was a little thankful for the distraction when they returned. He asked her to go to the library nook and he'd return to speak with her in a little while.

That gave him a few moments of solitude to puzzle this out. Why had she asked him that so suddenly? He thought she would have let it slide, because of the truth telling potion. So much for that! Relief flooded his senses, though. She was his witch- she _wanted_ to be his. Draco secured the box within another special combination of charms to make sure nothing happened to it. He peered in at the potions. Normal. All good.

_My lover._

His heart gave a strange, overful pulse. _Sweet Salazar, I'm in trouble…_ Draco sat at his potion bench for a moment, elbows down, covering his face with both hands as he heard her words, again and again in his mind. All while seeing her lips, her face, feeling her body shake against his hands, feeling her hands on him, the sight of her breast... He wanted her. He'd wanted her for a while now, but he'd almost taken from her when his control had snapped multiple times. Her affectionate title for him woke up some of that unrestrained desire he thought he'd managed to bury.

How was he going to have this conversation? Maybe he could keep it light and playful. That would be easiest for him. Would she play that way? Little nips, little innocent questions, a little harmless teasing to ask without having to say it? He wasn't sure… but he _needed_ to know.

Hermione was curled up in the large circle chair when he found her. She smiled shyly at him from her seat. His heart gave a strange lurch in his chest. _Oh Merlin help me..._

"Comfy, Granger?" he asked with a playful grin.

"Very," she replied, then patted the open space next to her, "Want to join me?"

YES. "Maybe in a minute," he smirked while sticking his hands in his pockets. He didn't trust himself at the moment. He switched on his teasing voice, "Lover, hm? That's an awfully affectionate name you gave me, witch."

She blushed. He sat it creep up her neck and could almost imagine the entire area above her breasts the same color. Slapping himself mentally, he refocused his mind.

"Is… is it too much?" Her eyes changed. Uncertainty. Fear.

Damn it, he hadn't meant it that way. He'd meant to rile her up a little, not push her down. "Not at all," he said softly, the smirk fading. She tore her eyes away from his. This wasn't going the way he'd hoped. Damn it all to hell, he was going to have to be honest! He slowly pulled his hands from his pockets and knelt in front of the chair, taking her chin in hand so he could meet her eyes again. "...it just confuses me a little. We're not lovers, Hermione…" he slowly lowered his hand to rest on her thigh. "...why'd you call me that?"

Her eyes changed again. Fear and uncertainty fled. Now, she looked fiery. Fierce. Challenging. So very, _very_ Gryffindor.

"Andi." Hermione spoke quietly. Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. A house elf popped next to her in the chair. "I need that contraceptive potion." The elf snapped its fingers and a vial appeared in Hermione's hand. Hermione took the lid from the bottle and downed the potion in one swallow. "Thank you." She handed the empty vial back to Andi. The house elf snapped its fingers again, vanishing.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't blink. _Hermione, what have you done?_

"...I'm not giving you a different nickname." she said quietly, taking his hand in her own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

He didn't remember exactly how it happened. One second she was sitting there, holding his hand, and the next he was crushing her body against his on the floor, kissing her harder than he meant to, a little out of control. Her nails were digging into his back. Some sanity came back to him and he pulled away from her quickly, sitting up off of her so she could breathe properly. She tried to pull him back down. He groaned softly, kissing her lightly, "Not here. Get in my bed, Granger."

Most of it went that way. Strange hiccups where he lost how they got from one point to the next. They were kissing- the next thing he knew, he finally had his mouth and hands on her bare breasts. She was twisting under him, soft sounds of pleasure escaping her lips.

Then he had her wrists pinned as he kissed her, resting his forehead against hers, trembling, begging her not to touch him, that he couldn't take it, that he didn't want to rush and hurt her.

And then his fingers were inside her, stretching her tight walls, tongue against her swollen clit. His name screaming from her lips when she came, shuddering, so very wet, soft thighs pressing around his face.

He froze when the next thing he knew, he was over her, pressed to her opening, staring into her dark eyes, glazed with pleasure. His heart hammered everywhere and he couldn't look away. How much was this going to hurt her? He wasn't sure if he had ever been with anyone who had never done this. Would she scream? Would she cry? Because he hurt her? Suddenly he couldn't do it. He felt ashamed. He _couldn_'_t_ take her. There was no way he could hurt her. Not even for this… he pulled away, laying at her side, taking her in his arms and burying his face in her hair, the scent calming his shame.

"Draco?" She whispered, he felt her fingers in his hair, soft and calming. "What's wrong?"

He wanted to lie, damn it! He wanted to make something up about taking his time until he had worked up the courage to try. His fucking mouth moved before he could stop it. "Hermione, I can't…" he muttered softly, "...I can't hear you scream if it hurts…"

She rolled to her side and kissed him, hard, pressing him to his back. Hermione straddled him. Fingers dug into her thighs and he cried out in surprise as she began to lower herself onto him, taking him inside slowly. He saw stars as she took him in at her torturing, slow pace. He'd never felt that before. His jaw clenched and eyes closed in pleasure. She never screamed.

How long she tortured him, he couldn't say. His mind was lost. He could only feel her body, setting the pace, changing speeds, her thighs around him, the sensation of being fully inside her again and again and again.

The next thing he knew, he was locked against her, screaming her name, body shaking as he came, hard, rocking into her as his hands kept her locked against his body. He'd been unable to time this. Had she even had an orgasm? He managed to open his eyes to see her on top of him as he shook. Wait- why was his wand pressed along her stomach and her clit?!

"Oh God- Draco!" Her voice was a moan and a whisper. She arched, trembling, body tight against his, hair tossing back. She nearly fell forward, her nails dug into his arms and he quickly turned his hands to hers to steady her. His wand fell away. He didn't have the capacity to think about that anymore.

His eyes rolled up into his head as he felt her body orgasm around him. If he hadn't just finished, that would've done it. They stayed that was for a little while. She giggled slightly when at the sensation of him sliding out of her for the first time as he pulled her to his side, kissing her gently. The first time. That thought made his head spin. He wanted a hundred- a thousand- a hundred thousand- more times. He couldn't stop it. His mouth felt just as out of control as the rest of his body.

She kissed him, pulling away to meet his eyes, looking extremely satisfied. "Now can I call you my-"

"I love you, Hermione Granger," he brushed her hair from her face.

Her eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't take it back now. If he thought he'd been exposed before, holy hell he'd been wrong! He felt raw. Uncomfortably raw, a little more than afraid. Maybe it was a little too much to say that to her now, after all that… maybe he should've tried to restrain his mouth a little harder. Maybe he should've waited and said it differently- planned that moment out, crafted the day for that memory. But there was nothing he could do. He'd said it. He'd finally said the damn thing, and he meant it. He couldn't take it back, and he didn't want to. She could rip him to shreds with whatever came from her lips next, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His fingers nervously pulled on a curl near her face as he watched her breathe to respond.

"I know, lover," she smiled, her lips coming back to his gently. "...I love you, too."


	42. Chapter 42: Narcissa

**Chapter 42: Narcissa**

Hermione woke, a little confused. What was that noise? She ignored it, snuggling a little closer to Draco as he slept. His arm tightened around her sleepily, hand cupping her bare breast. She smiled to herself. This week had been _incredible_. It felt like he had always been a part of her now. And the sex was amazing! She'd been thrilled their first time. He'd almost seemed unable to control himself half the time- nearly animalistic in the way he ripped her clothes from her body, teeth and nails digging into her skin. It had left a colorful display of small hickeys and bites along her neck and shoulder.

Every time since then was a little different, and it was never enough. Well, almost never. She'd been surprised how sore she'd been that first day. He convinced her to wait and asked for a back massage that night. And she discovered that he'd meant it when he'd offered every morning… massage or no. His fingers began to pull at her nipple and she sucked in a sharp breath at the touch.

"G'morning," he murmured sleepily into her hair. "Did you-"

"I _knew_ it!" an excited whisper from the door exclaimed.

Ginny's voice startled her. Hermione jumped slightly, quickly taking the sheet up over her front to cover her bare chest. Her red haired friend cackled, slamming the door shut behind her, waving the note from Percy several days ago. She'd left it on the kitchen table, amidst their pile of daily prophets. "I _knew_ it! Oh my Gods, Hermione, here?!" she shook the note, "And this? Really?! That's fantastic! I _wish_ I could've seen Percy's face!"

Hermione took the sheet up over her head and covered her burning face. Draco pinched her nipple hard, laughing along with Ginny. "You two are the worst." Hermione complained, slapping his hand away under the sheet. "Ginny, what are you doing here? You weren't supposed to come back until tomorrow."

"Harry and Ron got pulled back to the office a day early. There was another weird attack. London this time, a bunch of muggles. It didn't make much sense." She shrugged, then grinned, "Besides, if I'd come back early, you might've kept this a secret from me." Her voice changed to a sing-song tone, "Aaaand we have a lot of catching up to do!"

"...Apparently!" Draco's voice had a tone of surprise. He nudged Hermione's rib slightly, "I think you're going to want to see this, Granger."

She peeked out from the cover to see Ginny showing her left hand. A wedding ring sat there- green emeralds, the same color as Harry's eyes. Hermione squealed excitedly, dropping the sheet, reaching for Ginny's hand and pulling it down to see. "Oh Ginny- oh my God, Ginny!"

"That is _quite_ a show," Ginny said with raised eyebrows. Hermione took the pillow out from under Draco's head, hugging it to her body. Draco made a sudden noise of surprise, quickly sitting up. He reached over her body for his wand on the table, flicking his wand at her, then himself. She was dressed. They were both dressed! What?!

"Draco, how did you do that?" she asked in surprise as she lowered the pillow. He grinned devilishly at her. She frowned, "You've always known how to do that, haven't you? You little snake!" She hit him full in the face with the pillow.

He laughed softly and pushed it away, taking her chin and kissing her softly before standing. "I think you ladies need a few minutes alone."

"You could start a nice breakfast, y'know," Ginny called as he left the room. "The boys got called in so fast that I didn't have a chance to grab a bite this morning!" The door shut and Ginny hurriedly sat on the bed, "Holy shit, Hermione, I thought maybe you'd go a little further- but this! I didn't expect this!" she grinned, "And that little kiss! You're totally a couple! I'll have to add a plus one to the reception for you."

"Reception?" Hermione looked confused. "Don't you mean the wedding?"

"Hell no!" Ginny burst, looking horrified. "Don't you remember how Mum was when Fleur got married? Merlin's toes, Hermione, I don't want anything like that! Mum would've lost her mind planning my wedding. It's already done. We eloped! Ron was the witness." Ginny grinned, "Mum can cook all she wants, and fill this place to the brim for a reception, but I'm not having all that fuss and nonsense again."

"Don't you think she'll be upset?"

"Nope. She'll get it," Ginny replied easily. "She and Dad eloped too, remember? She might be mad for a minute or two, but then she'll be all teary eyed remembering about their romantic flight." The last two words were spoken with a dramatic emphasis. Ginny grimaced slightly, "And then, she'll be in a tizzy planning the reception. I think I can handle that much insanity from her. She'd kill me if I didn't let her do something!"

"Ginny, I'm so happy for you!" Hermione hugged her best friend tightly.

"Oh. My. God. Hermione." Ginny pulled her back, staring at her neck, "You like bites, I take it?"

Hermione flushed, covering her neck with both hands. "I charmed them! They should be invisible!"

Ginny's smile faded slightly. They were both silent a minute. Then, Ginny drew her wand and waved it about Hermione's head. "Done," Ginny said softly, tucking her wand away. "...it got a little worse this week, huh?"

Hermione let her hands fall into her lap, nodding slightly. "...I think both the potions are ready now." He'd refused to let her take the daily draft until Amy and Thomas had a chance to examine it. Draco had just added Narcissa's blood to her potion yesterday after its experience in the box with Lucius' wand. Draco had pulled the memory from his own mind. She'd held his hand tightly the entire time. He'd gone very pale, watching the wand attack the vial of his Mother's blood. Hermione shook her head slightly to push the memory away. "We're going to test it on Narcissa this afternoon."

"Andromeda should be there," Ginny said firmly, surprising Hermione. "Have you told her about any of this?"

Hermione hesitated. No, they hadn't. Ginny seemed to understand the response. "Alright, well I'm gonna pull a Molly Weasley and stick my nose where it doesn't belong. I'll bring her to breakfast- damn, what _is _that man cooking? That smells good!" Ginny's stomach gave a hungry grumble. "-and then you two can explain what's happening. Be back soon!"

There was no stopping her. Hermione sighed, walking into the kitchen, she watched Ginny skip off to the fireplace, and disappear with the floo powder. Draco gave her a curious look as she came out of the room. "Andromeda's joining us for breakfast. Ginny decided that we're telling her about Narcissa's potion."

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course she did." He grumbled something under his breath about the useless meddling of the Weasley's. Draco flicked his wand to prepare more food, then thought and flicked it a third time.

"That's a lot," Hermione commented in surprise.

"Her idiot brother and Potter are bound to barge in at some point, too," Draco muttered irritably. "So much for one more peaceful morning."

Hermione embraced him from behind, kissing his shoulder softly. "That's thoughtful, Draco. Thank you." He relaxed a little.

Sure enough, Andromeda, Teddy, Ginny, Draco and Hermione had just finished explaining the plan for Narcissa's recovery, and had barely sat down to eat when the fire went green again. Harry and Ron came marching solemnly into the kitchen, and had a plate of food before saying a word to anyone. Ron was halfway through his plate when he grinned, looking around the kitchen. "This is really good, Mum-" he paused, looking around again. "Where's Mum?"

"She's still in Romania," Ginny replied easily, eating another bite of sausage.

"Who cooked all this?" Ron asked in surprise, looking around the table.

"I did." Draco replied evenly, taking a sip of tea to hide that wicked smile of his behind the cup.

Ron dropped his fork, looking stunned. "You?!" He looked down to his plate, then back to Draco. "..._YOU?!_"

"Thanks for the compliment, Weasley," Draco drawled, looking smug as he put the cup down and picked up his fork again. Ron very slowly took his fork back in his hand, silent as he continued to eat. _Well, that's progress…_ Hermione thought, smiling at the stunned look on Ron's face. It was a tasty breakfast.

Draco was extremely nervous today. He kept his hands in his pockets as he walked, as though hiding them would hide his anxious energy. They had decided she would go to her treatment first, and he'd meet her there with the potion… and see what happened.

Hermione's treatment went so quickly. Where had the morning gone? Now, she stood there, Draco and Andromeda coming to meet her in the hall. Andromeda strode next to him, arm in arm as she walked. They looked powerful and calm as they approached, purposefully non-rushed. Hermione could barely see the apprehension in both faces. What was with this family hiding their emotions?

"Ready?" she asked softly, opening the door. Healer Amy and Healer Thomas were already in the room, prepared to act quickly if anything were to go wrong.

His eyes said no, but he nodded his head, motioning both women in ahead of him. Hermione sat nervously in a chair at the side of the bed next to Draco. Draco sat on one side of his mother, Andromeda on the other. Amy and Thomas were both standing at the end of the bed. He pulled the vial from his pocket, standing slowly.

For a moment, he just stood there. Then he reached out a hand and brushed his mother's hair from her face, kissing her cheek. He opened the vial and lightly took her chin, tilting her head back and pouring the potion into her mouth. Narcissa swallowed.

One of Draco's hand reached for hers unconsciously. She took it, and held her breath. Several long minutes passed. It could've been hours. They waited. And waited… and waited.

Nothing was happening.

Draco sat down softly in the chair, he put an arm on the bed and pressed his face against it, shaking his head no. His hand squeezed hers tightly. "I must've missed something." he growled, voice rough. "I must've done something wrong."

Oh God, was he crying?! Her heart broke in her chest. She shook her head no, about to put her hand on his head, about to tell him that it was all going to be okay.

But then, Narcissa Malfoy's hand stroked her son's hair. She spoke. "You did nothing wrong."

He shot up, looking at her- there were tears in his eyes. "_Mother?!"_

Narcissa smiled at him softly, her hand falling to his, squeezing it softly. "Draco… well done."


	43. Chapter 43: One of them was dead

**Chapter 43: One of them was dead**

Draco's heart was in his throat. He stared. That smile on her face broadened, and her hand squeezed his harder. He finally stood, throwing his arms around her and hugging her tightly. "Mother…" he closed his eyes, forcing the tears back, focusing on the fact that her arms wrapped around him, embracing him tightly. "Everything is alright, now."

Then he pulled away, held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. She was back. Narcissa smiled at him as he pulled away. He couldn't keep from smiling back as he pressed his forehead against hers. She was back! It worked! He laughed. IT WORKED! He released her and turned to Hermione. Without thinking, without pause, he took her hand and pulled her to him, taking a hand to her cheek as he kissed her full on the mouth. Right there. In front of his mother. Completely inappropriate. He didn't care!

"You god-damn brilliant witch," he hissed as he pulled away, hand running into her hand and pressing to the back of her head as he kissed her again. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"...where are his ashes, Andromeda?"

Draco felt his heart in his throat again. He quickly released Hermione's head, turning, but tightening his hold on her hand. His mother was looking at her sister expectantly. Andromeda reached in her bag and pulled out Lucius' ashes respectfully, handing the beautiful box over to her sister. Narcissa took it, sadly, fingertips brushing the box softly. She lifted it and hugged it to her chest, closing her eyes, hiding her emotions from the world. There were no fallen tears. Malfoy's were too proud for that.

"Mother…" Draco spoke softly, "How… how did you know?"

"Oh, your father was with me… almost the whole time," Narcissa spoke softly, putting the box slowly in her lap, opening her eyes to trace the letters of his name. "Now, he's waiting for me to come join him, someday."

The door opened and there was a surprised shout. Neville and Luna hurried to the back of the room. Neville was staring, open mouthed. He'd gone very white, staring. "How…" he rasped, looking ready to feint. "**How?!**" The man was about to go down. Draco released Hermione's hand to catch him as he fell. She helped on the other side and together they carefully guided him into a chair. Neville put his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands. Silent tears were streaming down his face. Draco put a hand on his shoulder firmly, a little uncertain how to help. Hermione knelt down to put a hand on Neville's arm, speaking to him quietly. Draco was grateful for that. He gave the man's shoulder another reassuring squeeze before he turned towards his mother again.

Luna Lovegood had both her hands pressed to his Mother's. They were staring at each other. Luna was showing her something? How did Luna even know his family could share memories that way?! What was it? What was Lovegood playing at? His mother slowly blinked, then turned her head to look around the room, focusing on Draco, on Hermione. "I see…" she said softly, she took both of Luna's hands in her own and gave a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Luna Lovegood…"

Luna stepped away, a strange kind of smile on her face. Draco didn't know that expression. That couldn't be good. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What did you just show her, Lovegood?"

Narcissa answered the question, eyes locking to Hermione. "She showed me what has been happening since I've been cursed," Narcissa said, staring intently at Hermione. His witch's face began to turn red. "...I do believe we need to sit down for tea, Miss Granger."

Draco felt absolutely breathless with joy. Amy and Thomas were going to speak with the Ministry of Magic later this week to get their hands on time alteration equipment for the potion for Hermione and Neville's parents. Andromeda suggested Narcissa returned to the Burrow with them, and she _agreed_!

Ginny, Harry and Ron were all home, eating a late lunch when they returned. Draco made the tea for the whole house. Andromeda and Narcissa seemed a little uncomfortable around each other. He hoped that would fade in time. He and Hermione sat down in the living room with them as they caught up. He barely heard all the questions and answers and conversation. Just being in the same room… just sitting there, holding Hermione's hand, watching his mother examine her critically, seeing the acceptance, the judgement that she approved… today couldn't be any better.

Several hours later, he understood that Narcissa had been able to come in and out through most of her ordeal. It had been like an endless dream- very pleasant. It had never hurt, never caused her fear. She said the best times had been when there was a soft musical tune existing in the space. With a jolt, Draco suspected that could've been when he was reading to her.

Narcissa continued to explain that time had never made sense. She continued to explained that she couldn't explain how Lucius had been with her, but she _insisted_ that he had been. His blood boiled in his veins when she told him that they had been attacked by a group led by Rodolphus Lestrange. Apparently, he'd been able to break out of Azkaban. What were the guards there up to? Draco pushed the fury away. He could find Rodolphus. He would, and he'd deal with him later.

The questions shifted and Narcissa wanted to know how he'd brought her back. Together, he and Hermione had explained everything. He'd taken the lead on the cursed room and his alienation from the original Malfoy Manor. Hermione focused on the treatment plan itself. Narcissa was impressed with her intelligence.

Narcissa was completely exhausted by the end of it all. She stood with an air of finally being ready to go home. Draco paused at that. Hermione had been with him, every night this week… He didn't want to leave her now. Her dark brown eyes caught his. He could feel her wondering the same thing. What should they do?

"You _are_ coming with us, now, aren't you, darling?" Narcissa asked to Hermione as she brushed a non-existent wrinkle from her clothes. His heart soared. Draco stood calmly, giving Hermione's hand one more squeeze before letting go. They stepped outside of the Burrow to apparate. Narcissa Malfoy had always absolutely refused the use of floo powder. She had always hated the spinning grates of fire, the lingering ash on her clothing.

There were several pops just outside the barrier of the house. The Weasley's had returned. Loud, surprised shouts, cries of welcome all around. Did they _always_ show up earlier than they said they would? Ginny must've predicted her family's behavior. Clever little witch.

Molly Weasley immediately focused on Ginny's wedding ring and began her high-pitched screaming, followed by intense sobbing, crushing her daughter against her body. Arthur Weasley was shaking Harry's hand, a knowing smile on his face. Of course, Potter had the sense to speak with the Father first. It was all chaotic and loud. His mother retreated with Hermione a few steps away from the chaos, speaking quietly. He couldn't help but smile at that. There was nothing that could ruin today, now that Narcissa was healed. Absolutely nothing.

"C'mere y'lil ferret!" George suddenly had Draco in a headlock and was rubbing his first against his hair. "Look at that brain of yours!" George gave his windpipe a playful squeeze. Draco growled, trying to push the man's arm off him. "You did it, eh?! Congratulations, man, I-"

There was a loud cry at the doorstep. Percy Weasley stumbled and crashed into the roses by the house. He howled in pain and surprise. George loosened his grasp on Draco, looking over and grinning with some confusion. Molly finally released her daughter, looking up in surprise. "Percy?" she tried to dry her eyes, "Percy dear-?"

"The barrier's gone-" Percy cried in alarm, wrenching an arm free from the thorns. "Mom, I apparated straight to the stairs! It's gone!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Crucio!"

"WANDS!" Arthur Weasley roared.

George's arm released Draco's neck immediately. Draco felt his wand in his hand, heart in his throat. Hermione and Narcissa were both falling to the ground. A scream lit up the air. He didn't know which was screaming. He didn't know which had stopped breathing. One of them was dead.

He cast a shield charm over both witches without thinking, without breathing. The screaming stopped. They both hit the ground. He wasn't the only one that had cast a shield charm. A strong silver barrier pulsed around both women. "Avada Kedavra," he snarled, wand slashing out at one of the masked figures. He was seeing red. The figure dropped to the ground. He raised his wand again- George got in his way. Draco just managed to stop the second killing curse from escaping his lips. He was running now, dodging spells, slashing out, trying to reach the other masked figure that had attacked the ones he loved.

How many were there? He couldn't count. Many were running away. Facing the wrath of this particular family was hell on a normal day. Today? Now? After this? He felt like there were brooding dragons surrounding him on all sides.

The attackers began to dissipate. Draco raised his wand again to strike, when a curse hit his left arm. His body convulsed. The barrier around the Weasley home was reactivated. Screams and curses filled the air as the attackers were forced away. The other man he wanted to kill removed his mask to smirk at him. Rodolphus Lestrange. Then, he was gone.

Draco hit his knees. It was boiling hot. Too hot. He dropped his wand, arms shaking as he ripped his shirt open, tearing it away from his body. He convulsed again. Draco stared at the Dark Mark. It was on fire. The black ink was red- full of fire. What was this? The mark was burning away- his arm was burning away. Draco scrambled for his wand, body convulsing again, pointing it at his arm. "Finite," he hissed. "F-Finite Incantatem!" It wasn't working.

Miniature fiery serpents, chimaeras, and dragons rose out of the eyes of the skull. A flaming phoenix soared down the tongue of the Dark Mark, eating his flesh. Fiendfyre. Inside him. Burning him alive. He couldn't breathe. How did he stop this? What kind of Dark Magic was this? The pain finally caught up to his brain. He screamed in agony, falling to the ground, slamming his arm against it, trying to put out the flame.

"DRACO!" his eyes snapped open. Hermione was sobbing, trying to break the shield charms surrounding her. Now he knew. He felt a guilty kind of relief, knowing she was alive. It meant Narcissa….

Another howl of pain left his lips, tearing every thought away as it blinded him with pain. When it receded for a moment, one last thought lingered. What happened if the Fiendfyre escaped his body? It would just keep consuming... everything… her. No! With the last of his ability, he raised his wand with a shuddering arm and cast a shield charm, trapping himself inside of it. His wand jerked away from his fingers. He closed his eyes, as ready to die as he could be. He screamed again, slamming his arm harder on the ground. He'd always hoped dying wouldn't be this painful.

His arm suddenly stretched away from his body. The shield charm around him shattered. Draco forced open his eyes to see his wand floating there, with no hand guiding its motion. The wand flicked once and his arm was stretched out, away from the rest of his body. It gave a powerful slash down.

"NO!" Hermione suddenly collapsed on top of him, sobbing. How much was she crying? Her tears were hot and sticky on the side of his face. He couldn't see much. His head turned to the side. His wand had trapped his arm inside a shield charm, and it was destroying the flesh, destroying the Fiendfyre. Realization struck him as he watched his own hand burn away to nothing. _My wand… cut off my arm…_

Draco's wand hit the ground next to the scorch mark. His eyes closed. Everything went dark.


	44. Chapter 44: St Mungo's

**Chapter 44: St. Mungo's**

"You _are_ coming with us, now, aren't you, darling?" Narcissa asked to Hermione.

Hermione smiled as Draco squeezed her hand. He let go, and soon they were walking outside. Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, George and Lee appeared at the barrier edge not long after. Molly saw Ginny's wedding ring and began yelling hysterically, followed by intense sobbing. Everything was loud. It gave her a headache, honestly. Narcissa lightly placed a hand on her back, "Hermione, may I speak with you?"

They walked across the lawn, putting some distance between the raucous family reunion. Hermione was standing in the shade of a tall tree. Narcissa stood in the sun. This witch was flawlessly stunning. She had immediately done up her hair and makeup before they left the hospital. Hermione had to admit, she felt intimidated just standing in her shadow.

"Tell me true, Hermione Granger," Narcissa spoke bluntly. Draco must've gotten his subtle, teasing tactics from Lucius. "Are you in love with my son?"

"Yes," Hermione said honestly, the question making her blush. "...but you already knew that, somehow, didn't you? You sent that vision-"

Narcissa interrupted her abruptly. "Trade places with me, darling, the sun is too much for my eyes today."

Hermione obliged, stepping into the sun as Narcissa stepped into the shade. Percy appeared on the porch. She frowned. Had he been home all day? Why hadn't he joined them for breakfast?

Narcissa took one of Hermione's hands in hers. The touch brought her back to the conversation. "You will take good care of him, now, won't you?" Narcissa pressed something into Hermione's hand, closing her fingers around it and refusing to let go. "He's my only son… and he's all that's left of Lucius now."

Why was she talking like this? It felt like goodbye. "Narcissa, I don't-"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Crucio!"

Pain. Unbearable pain lit up every last cell of her body. Hermione saw the light leave Narcissa's eyes. The hand against hers went limp. Pain. Never ending, never relenting. A scream ripped from her throat, tearing it raw with the force. As quickly as the pain had come, it had gone. Hermione lay there, unable to think, barely able to breathe, trembling on the ground. How long was she motionless? Curled into a ball, trying to breathe, trying to stop shaking long enough to reach for her wand. Spells bounced away from her. She was in a shield? Oh thank god. She sobbed, trying to calm herself enough to pull her wand from her pocket. Even her fingertips throbbed. Her head… her head had never hurt like this. Had she cracked her skull when she fell? Hermione struggled up to her knees, trying to get her bearings, her vision felt strange. She blinked away tears.

Draco. What was wrong?! He was on his knees, his shirt was gone, and he was staring at his arm. His entire body convulsed. Then, he screamed, collapsing to the ground, writhing in agony. Hermione slammed her fist on the shield. She couldn't take that sound- it tore through her skull like a spike! "DRACO!" she slammed her hand against the shield again, harder this time. He saw her. She saw his arm. Was that Fiendfyre?! In his body? She recognized the fiery phoenix snaking out of the mouth of the skull, ripping into his flesh. Her heart froze in her chest. It would kill him!

He screamed again, body arching on the ground. She saw him throw up a shield charm around his body. He _knew_. He knew what it was, and he was going to let it take him? "No…" Hermione whispered, tears falling faster. She grasped her wand tightly between her aching fingers, pointing her wand at the center of the shield, crying, "Finite Incantatem!"

The layers of shield charms around her broke, but something felt wrong in her head. A sharp pain- behind her eye- she'd never felt anything like it. Hermione stumbled to her feet and ran to him. She knew the spell to end it- she knew how to stop this- she could stop it- But she couldn't remember the words! She _knew_ it, she _knew_ she _knew _it, she _had_ to _remember_. She couldn't forget she was a witch, not now! He'd die if she couldn't _remember._ A sob caught in her throat at the thought and she tripped, slamming to the ground. She scrambled back to her feet, running, to see his wand moving by itself! It shattered the shield charm. Within three heartbeats, she watched it move- saw his arm pulled away from his body, saw the severing charm- and then the blood.

"NO!" Hermione collapsed on top of his chest, sobbing. He was so pale. How much blood was he losing? She couldn't look at it again. Her head _ached_\- it felt like her skull was about to split in two. His blood was thick, and hot on her skin. She sobbed, heart breaking as her fingers dug into his shirt. _No! _An intense wave of pain washed through her entire body. It was worse than a Crucio- worse than anything-

Hermione felt… nothing. She moved, floating. Time didn't exist. It was now. It would always be now. No one was around her. She was blissfully alone, and that was the way it had always been, would always be. The air around her seemed to be made of cloud. Her fingertips stretched over it, sending the cloud swirling in a soft rainbow of color. Brilliant colors bounced all around her. She was stepping on the colors- they were helping her climb into the air. It was spellbinding, this place. Calm, quiet, peaceful. She could stay here forever. Maybe she would.

Draco opened his eyes as an intense surge of pain made him arch his entire body, cursing into the darkness. He couldn't move his left arm. Did he still have a left arm? He put a hand over his eyes, controlling his breathing, refusing to scream. There was a sling against his chest. Very painful sensations were coming from that sling. Funny. He thought Dark Magic meant it was gone. Maybe his wand had cut off good arm to assure he'd be able to get it back? Was that even possible? How had that happened? Another shock of pain tore any ability to think from his mind. He swore, clenching his good hand to a fist and slamming it next to him. He tried to distract himself by focusing on a different sense. The smell of this room was familiar. He was back in the hospital. There was someone moving next to his bed.

"Hermione?" he whispered hopefully, opening his eyes, feeling in his gut that he knew exactly where she was.

"No," Ron Weasley replied quietly. "She's safe… but, Narcissa-"

"I know." Draco rasped. "Don't say it, Weasley… I know what happened to my mother." He swallowed his grief and shoved it into a box, locking it everywhere. He couldn't think about his mother right now. She was lost. But Hermione wasn't. Not completely. Not if he had anything to say about it. He tried to clear his throat. No good. His voice was still hoarse. "Granger… she's in the closed ward now, isn't she?"

Silence stretched for a long moment before he answered. "Yes."

Draco tried to sit up. Pain, and the world spun dangerously around him. He felt strangely lopsided. An arm came out to steady him, easing him back down on the bed slowly. "Easy, Malfoy- the Healer said you weren't supposed to be up on your feet for a few days."

"Fuck that," Draco hissed, forcing his vision to settle, forcing his pain away, forcing the hand from his body, forcing his spine to straighten despite the pain. "I'm going to go see her, now."

He stood and discovered his legs refused to be forced to do anything. He would've hit the ground on his broken side, had two firm hands not quickly caught him at the shoulders and forced him back to the bed. The touch set off a whispered stream of curses under his breath- and three shots of pain medication set from bedside table, nailing him in the sling his regrowing arm must have been hiding within.

The second he was down, he tried to stand again. Ron shoved him hard in the chest, forcing his back to the bed this time. Pain flared through the left side of his body. He couldn't stop from screaming that time, but he managed to pull back his right arm and knock the red head across the jaw. The red haired man barely turned his head with the blow.

"Just rest, you idiot- she's not going anywhere!" Ron growled as he forced Draco back in the bed for a third time. Draco wanted to punch him again. He tried, but Weasley caught his fist, almost gently. "The Healer said you're supposed to stay down. C'mon, Malfoy, knock it off..." Panic rose in his chest. Weasley was barely trying to stop him now, and he didn't need to try any harder. Where was his wand? Draco didn't have the strength to fight anymore. His arm ached. His body ached. His heart ached. He didn't want to see her, he _needed_ to see her. One of the Weasley's hands pressed against his chest lightly, forced him down with little effort. The panic burst in his chest. He'd never felt this helpless- never. Draco put his hand on top of Ron's, trying to pry the fingers loose. His good hand was shaking. He couldn't even grip. "I'm telling you, Hermione's safe. You can't see her right now-"

"Don't you fucking TELL me I can't see my wife!" Draco bellowed at his face in a raw voice. Green and silver sparks caught Ron's hand and he drew away immediately, then they both realized what he'd just said.

Ron froze. Draco froze. What? No. No, no... His heart hammered in his gut, twisting painfully. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard and pressing a hand over his eyes. What?! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! He hadn't just said that. Where had that slip come from? There was no way he'd just said that, not a chance in hell. But Ron's stunned silence told him he'd been perfectly clear. "My- my witch." he rasped painfully to correct his mistake, "My witch, Weasley…"

Draco sat up again, forcing himself to meet this Wizard's gaze. He didn't dare stand, there was almost no strength left in him after fighting like that. There was no way- he couldn't do it alone. He was prepared to plead, for her. He'd do anything, for her. "I need to see her, Ron…" The man didn't push him down, but he didn't make a move to help. "I need to know she's…" What? "...she's…" Alive? Broken? He closed his eyes, hearing her scream in his mind. It was going to tear his heart out of his chest when she didn't recognize him.

Suddenly, Ron was gently guiding Draco into a wheelchair. Draco was grateful he hadn't tried walking. Everything was a blur until they got to the closed room. Hermione was now laying in the bed where Narcissa had been. Ginny was there, wrapped tightly in her new husband's arms. He could hear her crying. His own eyes burned slightly as he looked at his witch, sleeping, drawing closer as Ron pushed him across the room.

Hermione lay on her side, hands curled under her body, hair cascading down her back. Ron stopped the wheelchair at her bedside. Draco took his good hand, leaning forward somewhat painfully, to pull a curl softly and tuck it behind her ear. He held one of her hands and gave a gentle squeeze. She looked peaceful. There was some small comfort. She couldn't be in any pain. Narcissa had told them it had all been like one long, never ending dream. As he squeezed her hand, Hermione's brow furrowed slightly. "Draco…" she whispered. His eyes shot wide open. Had he hallucinated?!

"Merlin's beard," Ron whispered behind the chair. "...did you all _hear_ that?"

She _recognized_ him?! _How?_! That made no sense. His heart pounded hopefully in his chest. He gave her hand another gentle squeeze. "I'll bring you back, Hermione," he promised softly. "I swear…"


	45. Chapter 45: Lovegood

**Chapter 45: Lovegood**

Draco didn't remember much those first few days. After seeing Hermione, he had promptly passed out and fallen to the floor. Apparently the fall destroyed all the healing progress his body had been making. The Healers had been furious. They drugged him with a level of dreamless sleep and pain killers that kept him out for about two days. When he woke the third day, he'd managed to stay awake.

Though, he was incredibly tired. Healer Thomas explained that due to blood tests, they knew Draco had a high tolerance to sleeping drafts, so they had put him right on the legal limit to knock him out. And it still hadn't worked right. It should've kept him out for four days, but it had only been two. He wanted to be in the closed ward with Hermione. No Healer would agree to that. They weren't legally bound in any way, therefore, there was no obligation to honor the request. However, Healer Thomas had promised to take Draco to the closed ward every day once the drowsiness wore off, and he was able to stay in the wheelchair without assistance.

It would take a full day for the drowsiness to really wear off. He came in and out of it all afternoon, and was feeling a little better by the evening. In the very least, his head had stopped dropping to his chest every five minutes. Tomorrow he could see her. Tomorrow. But tonight, an unexpected, unwelcome visitor came to see him.

Luna Lovegood sat down on the foot of his bed instead of a chair for visitors, her wand tucked behind her ear, pulling her hair over her shoulder. He felt strange, seeing her… strangely numb and strangely angry. "Hello again, Draco Malfoy."

"I don't want to see you," he spoke coldly, nodding his head back to the door. "Get out."

"No." Luna replied calmly. She moved to sit with her legs criss-crossed and face him straight on, looking perfectly at ease. "I came to show you what Narcissa Malfoy wanted you to know before she died."

"I don't want to see it," he hissed, feeling a terrible grief in his chest just hearing that sentence. "_Get. Out._"

"Well, I agree with you on this, but your mother is more than a little persistent." Luna replied with a gentle shrug. "I don't want you to see it. I think it'll be worse for you, personally. Narcissa insists-"

"Luna, don't talk about her like she's still here," Draco growled, both hands clenched into fists. It hurt to do with his left hand, but he couldn't control the reflex. "Communicating with the dead now, are you?"

"I don't," Luna disagreed. "I told you already, it's connections. Do you really believe connections are broken by death?" Luna frowned slightly, tilting her head at Draco. "Honestly, after everything your mother said about Lucius being with her? After he showed up to comfort you in the study when you tried on his glasses?" Draco felt his heart stop in his chest and his fists released. _How_ in the _hell_ did this _witch_ know so _much_ all the _time_?! "Like I was saying. Narcissa insists that it will help you. I tried to say no. She won't leave me alone! I've never experienced anything like this. Your family has some of the strongest, strangest, old magic I've ever felt."

Pestering, Persistent Narcissa. How many times had he heard his father growl that when he was irritated with his wife? The memory almost made him smirk. Almost. His lips had trouble smiling right now. If Lovegood were telling the truth, then there was no argument to be had. His mother always got what she wanted, in the end. "Get it over with," Draco hissed through clenched teeth.

Luna shoved his legs out of the way and moved all the way up by his hip. He was surprised when she put a hand gently on his left hand, healing in the sling, and made direct eye contact. And he wasn't ready for what he saw.

_The Weasley's returned... so, it was time already? Pity… she had hoped to hold her son, just one more time. Narcissa lightly placed a hand on her back, "Hermione, may I speak with you?" _

_They walked across the lawn, putting some distance between the raucous family reunion. Hermione was standing in the shade of a tall tree. Narcissa stood in the sun. This young witch was strong, beautiful, intelligent and kind. Her son had good taste. Narcissa had always hoped to have a daughter, through Draco's future wife. It hurt a little more than she expected to let go of that hope._

_There wasn't time for this. "Tell me true, Hermione Granger," Narcissa spoke bluntly. "Are you in love with my son?"_

"_Yes," Hermione said honestly, blushing prettily. Sweet girl. "...but you already knew that, somehow, didn't you? You sent that vision-"_

_Honest. Good. That was all she needed to know. Narcissa interrupted her abruptly. "Trade places with me, darling, the sun is too much for my eyes today."_

_Hermione obliged, stepping into the sun as Narcissa stepped into the shade, sealing their fates. Lovegood's vision had been clear. If it weren't now, it would be at the Manor, or at Halloween, or at Christmas, or at the New Year- and every delayed attack would take more and more of those Draco had begun to care about. At the New Year, he would have all but one, or none. Take her now, and the rest were safe. He wouldn't continue to suffer. She had the power to make this choice. Fate was cruel._

_Narcissa slid her wedding ring from her finger, and took one of Hermione's hands in hers. "You will take good care of him, now, won't you?" Narcissa pressed it into Hermione's hand, closing her fingers around it and holding tight, keeping her voice steady. "He's my only son… and he's all that's left of Lucius now."_

_Clever girl. Those eyes knew something was wrong. Goodbye, Draco... "Narcissa, I don't-"_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Crucio!"_

Draco took Luna's wrist in his hand softly, stunned, pulling her away. He couldn't breathe. His mother… had known she would die? How did that make it better? What was Narcissa thinking? "What did you show my mother?" Draco growled darkly, tightening his grasp harshly. She cried out in pain. "_Show me_." He didn't wait for the memory, he ripped it from her. Luna fought, trying to block him, but it wasn't good enough. Her other hand pulled at his fingers, "Draco- no! DON'T!"

_Today. They never changed placed. Hermione dead. Narcissa alive. The Manor. Screams. Narcissa dead. Halloween. Terror. Andromeda and Teddy, bloody and broken. Christmas. Dementors. Harry and Ginny were lost. The New Year. The Weasley's, the Lovegoods- Fiendfyre. Gone. Draco. Poison. It was all over._

_But then. Today. They changed places. Hermione alive. Narcissa dead. The Manor. Narcissa was never there to kill. They never found it. Halloween. Andromeda and Teddy were protected, saved. Christmas. Draco stood side by side with the Potter's. No one was lost. The New Year. Andromeda, Teddy, all the Weasley's, the Potter's, the Lovegoods, and a couple he didn't know were with him at the Manor. The Fiendfyre destroyed an empty valley. And he could see Hermione kissing him at midnight._

Luna was sobbing hysterically as she wrenched her arm free from Draco, she put both hands to her eyes, rubbing them, shaking her head no. "I d-d-didn't w-w-want t-t-to s-s-see it ag-g-gain, D-D-Draco M-M-Malfoy!" Draco pulled her to his chest without another thought, closing his eyes and holding her tightly as she sobbed. His arm screamed in protest, but he ignored it. He should apologize, but he couldn't. There was no regret. "I _hate_ this." Luna confessed as she sobbed, making herself smaller against him. "Why does it have to hurt so much?" her voice cracked and she whispered, "Why?"

A sudden cold gripped his chest. Draco froze. He knew that cold. A Dementor? Here? Now?! How! His eyes tore around his room… but nothing was there. A sudden thought hit him. Draco pushed Luna up so he could reach around her neck. His fingers found a familiar string. He gave it a hard tug. A Phoenix charm came out, and he released it so it rested on her chest, but it was almost completely black. The small head was the only sliver of silver left. Draco pulled his wand from the sling, and quickly pressed it to the charm. He'd never succeeded with a Patronus. _Never._ But, for the first time in his life, he felt a thought that brought him so much joy, his chest was full to bursting.

_I'll have her back by the New Year._ "Expecto Patronum."

The black faded as something silver slithered through the darkness. It chased every inch of it away, until her charm was bright and glittering in the lights of the room. Tears still lingered on her cheeks, but she began to wipe them away, hiccuping slightly. "I needed to know." Draco said quietly. It wasn't an apology. She knew it. He knew it, too. He'd never be able to apologize for that. He would never really mean it if he did.

Luna was still shaking. It must've been hell to have a power like hers. She'd just given him the best thing he ever could have asked for, at quite a cost based on those tears. He had to do something in return. Draco put his hand on top of hers. "Look at me, Lovegood."

She hesitated a long moment before raising her strange eyes to his, still hiccuping. Draco gave her the best memory of flying he could find. One where everything else in the world vanished, and it was just the clouds, and the sun, and the wind, and the water. Time didn't exist on a flight like that. Neither did any kind of fear, or pain, or anger. It was freedom. Her face relaxed. Her body softened, and all signs of the tears faded. He didn't remember how long that flight was, and he had no idea how long they sat there, unblinking, reliving it together. Luna slowly withdrew her hand from his, pressing it to her phoenix charm, looking contemplative. "Maybe I need to take up flying… that was beautiful, Draco Malfoy... thank you."

Something still didn't make sense. Why had she seen that vision to begin with? How did Luna know so many strange little details about what was happening all the time? The Crucio curse he had taken, Hermione's conversation with Mrs. Weasley, his Father's glasses, his Mother. "Why have you been reading so many of my connections, lately?"

She was still and silent for a moment before deciding to tell him. "The first one… I can't say. It just came to me at the Ministry of Magic… that's pretty normal. It happens all the time." Luna lightly stroked the charm over her shirt. "I'm connected to everyone wearing one of these… it's the price, Draco Malfoy… Magic to counter Dark Magic _never_ comes without a price." She smiled very sadly at him, then. "The Black's and Malfoy's are terribly powerful. Her death paid the price for all of them, and then some..."

Draco reached under his shirt and pulled the necklace off immediately. Luna's eyes widened at him. "You've paid more than enough." he said firmly, handing it back to her. "Luna, it's too much."

Luna's expression changed. She gave his chest a long, hard, critical stare for several long minutes. Then, a smile took over her face and she met his eyes, taking the necklace back. "It's never too much, Draco Malfoy. You destroyed the seed. I'm glad to see you've forgiven yourself."

If he followed that logic… "When will you forgive yourself, Lovegood?"

Luna's smile faded. She fell silent, winding his necklace in her hand. A shadow flickered through her phoenix charm, chased away by the new Patronus. "...when the Moon burns with the fire of the Sun…" she said softly, sadly, "...and not a day before."


	46. Chapter 46: Politics

**Chapter 46: Politics**

"Happy Birthday, witch," Draco muttered, smoothing Hermione's hair and kissing her cheek lightly. He flicked his wand to the vase of flowers he'd brought with him and it floated gently to her nightstand. Draco had found them this week on his flights around the valleys of the Burrow. The inhabitants of the home had taken to early and late patrols around the perimeter. Their security had more than tripled now, due to the birth of Fleur and Bill Weasley's twins. A boy and girl. The new family was staying in the Burrow with the newborns while Fleur recovered. Percy had given up his room to them and gone to stay with a friend in London. Draco would've offered his bed if he had any inkling about the monstrously mothering creature that became Molly Weasley when she had one of her grandchildren close.

The vase clinked softly as it landed. He had absolutely no idea what kind of flowers Hermione liked. His Father had always, _always_ hand picked Narcissa a bouquet of flowers on her birthday. Every year it had been simple, beautiful and unique. Draco's bouquet for her held mostly sunflowers, with a scattering of wildflowers he'd brought from the Weasley's garden. These fit his witch: Brilliant, bright, and wild.

Lucius Malfoy had gotten a lot of things wrong, in Draco's opinion, but he'd done one thing entirely right. He'd known how to love his wife.

_She's not my wife._ Draco slapped himself mentally. It had become almost natural to think that way over the past couple of weeks, and he didn't understand why. He hadn't slipped again, and Ron had not said a word about it. However, he did have to remind himself _repeatedly_ in moments like this. Shaking the thought away, he moved to sit on the couch, sling still around his neck. The Healers couldn't explain how his arm was coming back, but it was. However, it was painfully slow. They told him to be pleased, that by all accounts, there was no reason for his arm to return at all. Draco was trying. He flicked his wand to raise the book he'd been reading to her this week.

Hermione paused. There was that sound again. She walked closer to it. A cluster of shapes appeared in the clouds. Pillows? Unclear. She didn't recognize it, but the sound was coming from there. She sat down, pressing her back against it and closing her eyes to listen. This was nice. Warm. The sound was a soft, steady and melodic. Something about it felt familiar and she liked it.

Draco continued reading as Hermione sat down next to him and leaned her back into his chest. His eyes softened slightly as he pulled a curl lightly, never stopping his voice. The first time she had done this, he had a lot of trouble continuing to read. Now, he was thankful for this strange, small affection. There were so many tiny signs that she still recognized him. It kept him sane while waiting for the Unspeakables to get back to Amy and Thomas about the time alteration devices and wands.

The rest of her friends would be showing up soon. He'd gotten used to them walking in as he finished a few pages. It was actually only thanks to Ginny that he knew today was her birthday. The witch had made cards for everyone to sign and put around Hermione's bed. Sure enough, the trio entered just as he got to the end of the chapter: Harry, Ginny and Ron. Ron was pointedly uncomfortable to see Hermione resting peacefully against his chest like this, every single time he'd come in the closed ward. It made Draco wonder why he bothered to enter until he had finished reading to her. And every time he finished reading, she pulled away and began to wander aimlessly about the room again. That fucking hurt. But it couldn't be helped.

"Shouldn't you be back in school by now, Weaslette?" Draco asked as he flicked his wand to put his book away, refusing to meet any eyes as he boxed up the sting of Hermione walking away from him like that.

"It's Potter-ette, now," Ginny reminded him again with a grin, "And no." Her eyes were fierce as she continued. "I'm not going back to school until Hermione forces me. I only kept it up because of her, anyway."

"She's not gonna like that," Ron muttered, hands in his pockets, avoiding looking at Draco. "You're setting yourself up for a fight, Ginny."

"Good!" Ginny huffed, "I'd like to see a little fight in her again, thank you very much! I'll be happy to be the first to row with her when she's out of this. Speaking of-" she put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot on the ground while glaring at Draco. "Any word on that stuff you need for the potions? It's been too long."

"Amy and Thomas said they thought they'd get a response sometime this week," Draco replied calmly. His stomach did a backflip just thinking about it. The potions for Hermione and the Longbottoms were underway. The necessary wands were another issue. Healer Thomas had submitted a request for the wands of Barty Crouch Jr. and Rabastan Lestrange, which were locked away somewhere at the Ministry. He still had Bellatrix's wand. That left Rodolphus. Draco refused to think of that man right now. The auror office was already attempting to track the man down. Harry and Ron had taken the lead on that one.

The wands were still unsettling him. Draco would have no choice but to go to Ollivander for more help. One wand seemed to make sense with the box- but what was it Hermione had said the batty old fool had said? _Can't discuss wands with wands in the room._ What if he put all four wands in the box and they somehow… learned what was happening? Retaliated? Botched the whole thing? He felt a little paranoid, and more than a little crazed even considering the idea, but Ollivander would know the answer.

Healer Amy entered the room. Healer Thomas followed close behind. They strode over to Draco and thrust two letters into his lap. "Everything was denied," Amy said quietly. "The experiment was considered too dangerous and did not have sufficient trials to warrant the need for time alteration."

"Apparently, there is a certain level of clearance needed to access the wands or artifacts of past and present Death Eaters." Thomas spoke, crossing his arms over his chest, "And a St. Mungo's Healer doesn't qualify."

A curious kind of amusement was filling Draco's chest. Denied? Clearance? Qualifications? Bullshit. There would be no denial. There would be absolutely no need for clearance or qualifications of any kind. He knew how to win this game.

"Potter, come here." Draco flicked his wand to pen a letter in midair as Harry came to sit next to him on the couch. "Sign this."

_Kingsley-_

_I have an urgent request. I need to meet with you at your earliest convenience._

_Regards,_

Those dark eyebrows went up in his hair and the green eyes looked absolutely stunned. He pushed the letter away immediately. "What?! Draco, I can't send that off to the Minister of Magic! That's-"

"Excuse me?" Draco snarled, eyes flashing dangerously. "This is what it looks like when you call in a favor, Potter. Sign it." Draco stated firmly, flicking his wand to push a quill over to the dark haired man.

Harry shook his head no, "Look, Draco, I don't know who you think I am-"

"I think you are the one that ended the War." Draco said coldly. "I believe you were part of the Order of the Phoenix, and fought side by side with Shacklebolt on multiple occasions. Am I wrong, Harry?"

Harry frowned at that, "Well… no, but-"

"Then it's time someone showed you how to use your influence," Draco replied, magicing the quill and parchment to him again. "Sign it and send it off."

The man hesitated again. Draco was tempted to Imperio him into obedience when Harry looked over to Hermione. Harry picked up the quill, signed it and spoke. "Kreacher…" A loud snap and an ancient house elf appeared there. "Can you please take this to Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

The house elf took the letter and bowed deeply. "Consider it done, Master." He vanished with a loud crack.

"I can't believe I just did that…" Harry leaned forward to hold his head in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief.

Barely three minutes later, there was another loud crack as Kreacher returned. "The Minister of Magic will see you now, Harry Potter." Kreacher said with a low bow, holding up a glowing Ministry of Magic pen. "He sends Kreacher with the Portkey to bring you back to his office. Kreacher has done good, Master."

"Well… well done, Kreacher!" Harry said, staring at the Portkey in shock.

Draco flicked his wand. He, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Amy and Thomas were all now dressed in proper business clothes. "Bring those letters with us," he said to Harry as he stood. Ginny pulled lightly at her dark blazer, and turned slightly to examine the purple heels extending just beyond her perfectly tailored dress pants. "Holy hell, Malfoy, how do you know anything about fashion?"

"I'm a Malfoy," he explained simply, tucking his wand back to the sling for his left arm, now hidden beneath a cloak. "Let's go."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was sitting at his desk, hands pressed together calmly as they all appeared in the middle of his office. He took one look at their clothes, the people assembled there, and his eyes met Draco's knowingly. He flicked his wand and several more chairs appeared around his desk. Draco took dead center. There was no need to play dumb or dance around. Shacklebolt was one for flair, not for flattery.

"Thanks for seeing us, Kingsley." Harry began, reaching out to shake the Minister's hand before taking a seat. Kingsley smiled slightly as he shook Potter's hand, then his eyes turned back to Draco and the smile vanished. The silence extended a few moments longer.

"So," Kingsley's deep voice was grounded and calm, dark eyes locked to Draco's. "Harry Potter is not the one who requested this urgent meeting... is he?"

"No." Draco confirmed. "We both know you'd never have agreed to meet if I was the one that sent the letter." Shacklebolt looked carefully around the room. He couldn't miss that Draco wasn't here alone. That would make a difference. Harry might not have called the meeting, but sitting down, letting Draco take the lead, meant that Kingsley _would _listen. "Harry, give the Minister the letters we just received."

Kingsley took the letters, spreading them flat, side by side on his desk and read them thoroughly. He was silent for a long time. "It is not possible to do this. No one can be brought back this way."

"Narcissa Malfoy was brought back, using this method," Healer Amy spoke up immediately. Good girl. Play the part.

"And who are you?" Kingsley asked, turning his attention for the first time to the unknowns in the room.

"Healer Amy, and- and this is Healer Thomas, Minister," Amy gestured to Thomas, who nodded at Kingsley. "We used this method to revive Narcissa Malfoy. It was successful." Kingsley folded both hands together, pressing them calmly to his lips as Healer Thomas picked up. "We ran through countless calculations and simulations. It is possible, and it was done. It can be done again."

Kingsley was silent. He re-read the letters at his desk several times. The Healers pressed on further, saying that they had the calculations available for review at any time. Healer Amy started to launch into a complicated explanation of how it worked when the Minister raised his hand in a silent request for her to cease and she fell silent. He folded his hands on his desk again. The dark eyes were sincere when they met his this time. Shacklebolt's voice was almost soothing as he spoke next. "I am sorry for the loss of your Mother, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco hadn't been prepared for that. The grief rose in him unexpectedly but he grit his teeth and locked it away again. He gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. Kingsley turned his attention to Harry. "You intend to use this to bring back Hermione? And both the Longbottom's?"

"Yes." Harry nodded firmly. "It works, Kingsley."

Kingsley was silent again, then he turned his eyes next to Ginny. "I'll need another set of eyes to find Rodolphus Lestrange and get his wand."

"Done." Ginny said in a heartbeat, eyes glowing fiercely. That knack of hers for finding lost things would come in handy, now.

Then Kingsley turned to Ron and looked to Draco, then back to Ron slowly. "Do you trust him?" That surprised him even more. This wasn't going the way Draco thought it would.

"Nope." Ron replied honestly. _Fucking idiot!_ "But I know he wouldn't do a damn thing to hurt Hermione."

Kingsley lifted a stamp, pressing it down on both papers for authorization. They vanished immediately. Kingsley sat back in his chair for a moment, turning to Amy and Thomas. "I expect to be kept fully informed of the developments with this project, Healers."

Then he pressed both hands to his desk as he stood, a hand reaching across his desk to Draco. Draco stood and shook, Kingsley's eyes flickered curiously to the sling against his chest for a quick moment. "Next time," the deep voice said quietly, "I'll expect to see your signature, Mr. Malfoy."


	47. Chapter 47: Halloween

**Chapter 47: Halloween**

He didn't want to be here. He never wanted to set foot in this shop again. Draco saw the old man raise his head when Draco entered. He pointedly refused to enter that back chamber, standing with his arms on the counter and waiting for Ollivander to speak first.

"I was surprised to get your letter," Ollivander looked relaxed, powerful, in control of the conversation. "I assume you intend to revive the Miss Granger and the Longbottoms next?" Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. How did Ollivander know about Hermione? The old man gave him a careful smile. "Luna Lovegood has caught me up on everything," Ollivander stated quietly, folding his hands on the counter in front of him. "I have promised her that I would do everything in my power to assist. However… I do require a price, Mr. Malfoy."

_Of course you do._ Draco snarled in his brain. He remained outwardly collected. "Name it."

Ollivander's eyes flickered to Draco's left arm. "I want the memory of the day your arm was removed… and any other instances your wand moved without your orders."

He would give Ollivander the memory of that day, but nothing else. Ollivander had no reason to suspect Draco had anything else to give. "That's the only one I have, so far." Draco put his wand tip to his temple and felt himself pale as he watched it again, but closed his eyes, forcing himself to take it, then summoned a vial to store it. He didn't hand it over just yet, though. "As you know, there are complications... Multiple wands, time alteration. I need more help than last time."

"Oh yes, Miss Lovegood made that clear. I'll be checking in with the Healers, rest assured." Ollivander cast an almost hungrily at the memory in the vial before wiping his expression clear. "You must have Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley bring the wands here, one at a time, one per week. Then they will bring the blood for everyone, clearly labeled. An auror returning the wands to me will not cause the wands to suspect anything. That's the only way they will not figure out what we are doing. They will think they are here for repair, or storage, or a new Master."

Draco handed over the memory. Ollivander took it delicately before shaking his hand, almost eager. Draco had no reason to doubt a promise Ollivander made to Luna. He adored her as if she were his own blood. Draco left the shop, wincing slightly as his left arm jarred against the doorframe. The amount of time this limb was taking to heal was obnoxious. At least he was out of the sling.

As the sun began to set, his mind turned back to his witch. He'd be damned if he gave _every_ memory to Ollivander. There was no chance in hell he'd show the old windbag what his wand did to Hermione when they were naked together. It still made his heart pound strangely to think about it. Draco had asked her what it had done, the second time he'd begun to seduce her in his bed. His witch had gone cherry red explaining that his wand was acting like a powerful vibrator, whatever the hell that was, from the muggle world. He'd been too interested in kissing her and getting his hands on her skin to ask too many more questions. His wand kept _helping_ in its strange way, every single time he'd been inside her. That would always and only belong to the two of them, no one else.

Draco apparated to Aunt Andromeda's house, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek as he appeared to join her for dinner. He had shared Lovegood's vision with everyone, and they had formed a plan of attack. Rodolphus didn't know that they knew he was coming. Andromeda had volunteered to be bait. She refused to let Teddy be part of it, so the boy was safely mother henned with Molly Weasley back at the Burrow, poly-juiced potioned and with a sleeping draft to appear like one of Fleur's newborns. Teddy's bed held a simple and convincing empty shell- a transfigured pillow, that was all. Many aurors and most of the Weasley family were keeping watch, far out of sight, under invisibility cloaks and disguises. Any minute now, Rodolphus and his gang would approach to attack Andromeda and Teddy. Now, they waited. Draco hated waiting.

The scream upstairs told them Rodolphus had taken the bait. He and Andromeda bolted up the stairs. She got there first. Andromeda fell to her knees, sobbing, cradling the bloody form of her fake grandson, just as they had planned… but her tears seemed almost too real. Draco disarmed Rodolphus. The man kicked his Aunt in the face and she went sprawling to the ground. Anger bubbled in him as he slammed a fist into that man's cruel face in retaliation. Shouts of the Aurors capturing the others Rodolphus had brought with him were heard outside. Such a simple, brilliant plan... but then something happened that he didn't plan when he met the Lestrange's eyes. An intense wave of grief, hatred and rage like he had never known welled inside him, and he forgot about using his wand to bind him. Draco's fists were pummeling Rodolphus, blood pounding in his ears. This wasn't the time to lose control. This wasn't the time to go off the track- and as Rodolphus' hands found his throat, shoving him up against the wall and squeezing with all his strength, he knew he'd made a mistake.

"_Crucio._" Andromeda spoke softly, eyes glittering in the dark. Rodolphus released Draco's neck, collapsing to the floor. Draco put a hand to his throat, coughing harshly as he stumbled away. A single lock of Andromeda's hair was out of place, tears silently glittering down her cheeks, eyes almost crazed, a trickle of blood running down her chin from her bloody lip. "Fanatic belief in _Toujours Pur _took my older sister from me, and she went to _you_," she twisted her wand and several finger bones snapped, Rodolphus' slammed his hand on the floor with a terrible scream.

Draco had never seen a Crucio like this. He was frozen, morbidly fascinated. Bella had been ecstatic every time she tortured someone, perfectly content to laugh and enjoy every delicious moment. But this… Andromeda was shaking, she looked out of control. Every word, every cracking bone, looked like it was tearing Andromeda to pieces, but it seemed she couldn't stop.

"That war… it took my heart, my _Ted_, my husband," the wand twitched in her hand and his wrist snapped. "...and then my _beautiful _daughter Nymphadora." This time she flicked her wand and his ribs snapped. "...and the Father of my Grandchild." Andromeda squeezed her wand tighter in her fingers. Blood stained Lestrange's lips as he coughed, looking terrified as he lay there. Andromeda's face was contorted with grief and pain. "...then you took my little sister… my _Cissy _away from me… when we had a _second chance_!" Andromeda twisted her wand sharply and Draco heard the cracking of more bone- but he had no idea where. Each word was now accented with a jab of her wand, and the horrific sound of breaking bones that Draco couldn't see. "You. Will. Not. Have. Their. _Sons_!"

Rodolphus made a mad grab for his wand, succeeded and put it to his temple, mouth gurgling with blood as he spoke. "Avada Kedavra."

The green light filled the room for a moment, and then it was over. His Aunt did not lower her wand until Draco reached over the corpse to remove the wand from Rodolphus' hand. She approached slowly, and did the most unexpected thing. Andromeda held up her robe, gave the dead man one hell of a decent kick to the face and spat at him. "_Coward_." Andromeda hissed darkly. "I should have known it would be too much for you, mourir avec honneur."

Draco stared at her as he slowly stood. Andromeda tucked her wand away, wiped the tears from her cheek, then the blood from her lip. Her eyes closed for a moment and she grit her teeth as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Get rid of that fake Teddy, Draco…" she spoke softly, "...or I'm going to lose my mind."

Without hesitation, he flicked his wand. The transfigured pillow reappeared, and all the dark red blood became nothing more than feathers.

Hermione imagined a beautiful witch walking towards her in sky blue robes. The witch seemed to appear out of nowhere. There was a strange ache in her chest, seeing this woman. Why? She blinked, frowning slightly as she got closer. That light colored hair, those beautiful eyes. _I know you._

_Yes, you do, clever girl. _The woman didn't move her lips, but Hermione knew that voice. How did she know that voice? She couldn't know her. The woman reached out a hand and gently held Hermione's. A waterfall of memories punched her in the gut. The memory that took him away from her. She gasped at the intensity of her fear. _Narcissa! Draco? How could I have forgotten all this?! Where's Draco?! Is he-_

A hand gently cupped her cheek. _Be still, he is fine. You're the one in danger of being lost._ Narcissa smiled softly.

Hermione looked around. The shape of clouds were coming in and out with the shapes of a room… a room at… what was it… what _was_ it… Mung… Mungo's. St. Mungo's! She was in the closed ward. She held on to Narcissa's hand tightly, afraid that if the witch let go, she'd forget everything again. _What's happening? Can you tell me?_

Draco paced the library, feeling restless. Rodolphus was finally dead, but that didn't bring back his mother. Not like he thought it would, but he had hoped that seeing that man dead would've made his grief easier to carry. Regretfully, it hadn't helped at all. He had nothing to do. Hermione had gotten one thing wrong. None of the options in the book _needed_ a Malfoy working on them. That had been arrogance on the part of his ancestors. The potions and spells just needed someone with intelligence and skill to make things happen. That meant that now, St. Mungo's Healers were taking charge of the potions in a carefully controlled laboratory. Harry and Ron would have to take care of the wands. Ollivander was supervising and assisting… and Draco was, what? _Waiting._ He _hated_ waiting.

With a jolt, he realized there was one thing they didn't have. Draco sat down immediately to write to Kingsley, requesting the memory of the attack on the Longbottom's. He signed his name and whistled for Calypso. She flew in through the window. Her orange eyes seemed to sense his restlessness, because she walked straight to his lap and pressed her face soothingly against his chest. Draco stroked her dark feathers gently, relaxing slightly at the touch. After she flew from the window, Draco felt his knee bouncing. He forced it to stop. That wasn't good. He only got this anxious when he needed a project.

He stood up to pace again. He needed a project. What? Dreamless sleep? No. If he managed to sleep, then he wanted to dream. Dreams brought Hermione back to him. They also brought nightmares of losing her. He couldn't control which, but he willingly took the risk. Some nights were worth it. Other nights, he felt almost mad with grief.

What would Hermione be working on, if she weren't locked up in the closed ward? That was a thought. They had been focused so completely on his project, and each other, that he hadn't asked her why she wasn't working yet. She'd graduated this year, hadn't she? There must have been a million job offers coming in for the Brightest Witch of her Age. Aside from her illness, what would keep her from accepting something amazing?

Her parents.

Draco stopped pacing. He clenched both fists, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth angrily at himself. _I am __**such **__an idiot…_. Of course, Hermione would have been trying to figure out how to bring back her parents. How had he missed that? It was obvious. All that time, Hermione had been working with him to help bring back Narcissa. His mother. Not hers. And she hadn't said a word. The witch probably hadn't even considered it that way. He suddenly felt incredibly guilty and selfish.

It was decided, then, they were his project now. Hermione probably had a lot of notes about things she had already tried. Would it be helpful to go snooping for them? He felt uneasy about going through her things. Mainly unease at what he would find. He didn't trust himself to limit his snooping at her research for her parents. That wasn't an option, then. Draco sat down and flipped open the volume with the silver and green Malfoy family crest, looking for information on Memory Charms.

Hours passed. His eyes hurt. He should've put on his glasses. His head nodded against his chest and the book slid to his lap. "_You god-damn brilliant witch," he hissed as he pulled away, hand running into her hand and pressing to the back of her head as he kissed her again. "I couldn't have done this without you." Hermione and Narcissa were both falling to the ground. A scream lit up the air. He didn't know which was screaming. He didn't know which had stopped breathing. One of them was dead._ Draco woke with a start in a cold sweat.


	48. Chapter 48: November

**Chapter 48: November**

Draco hated waiting, and he hated calculations. Why not do both when he felt completely wrung out? That sounded _bloody_ brilliant. A regular _picnic_. He grit his teeth and put down his quill, reading the page again, slowly, to make sure he wasn't jumping to conclusions. What had he been thinking, taking on such a complicated project? Damn. His numbers were right. That meant something else was still wrong. He snarled wordlessly at the parchment, taking up his quill again, tapping the paper and leaving blots of ink before accepting the dead end. For the thousandth time, he irritably scribbled at the bottom of the page _Inconclusive. Start over. _The ink glittered mockingly at him as it dried.

Hermione would know what he was missing. She'd see it in a heartbeat. Give her five minutes with this notebook, and he bet she'd have the answer puzzled out. That made him even more irritated, and the pull of longing for her made him sad. Until she was gone, he hadn't realized how much time they had been spending together. The loss of conversation, flying, teasing, reading, eating, sleeping together… it was getting to him. He threw his quill down, rubbing his left shoulder briefly before leaning forward to put his elbows on the table, moving both hands to press against his temples. His head _pounded_. Sleep kept toying him, erratic and inconsistent. He had more nightmares than pleasant dreams now. He was afraid. He was afraid that it wouldn't work, and he'd have to spend the rest of his life this way, without her. And he couldn't box that fear.

The Weasley's weren't helping. Draco felt on edge at the Burrow. This family kept asking how he was feeling, and kept trying to talk to him about Hermione, and poking around his grief and his fear. It was maddening. He had tried to hole up at the Manor for the first week of November. He had thought maybe after two weeks, he might feel a little calmer. However, that opportunity had been ripped away. One night, curled up in the circle chair, nearly peacefully asleep for the first time in a week, Harry, Ron, Arthur Weasley, Bill and George had forced entry using the floo network. Apparently they thought him being alone was too dangerous. He had been forced to return to the Burrow. How could an entire family be this blasted persistent? Every time he spent more than a day away, one of them came to drag him back. He was starting to crack up.

Solitude ripped away from him like that was creating a dangerous state. He _needed_ space. He _needed _quiet. He _needed _solitude. This family refused to let him take it. He was going to snap, soon, and it would probably be directed at George. He _needed_ a punching bag. Andromeda was no help. He had gone to her and tried to explain. Molly Weasley seemed to listen to her. But it was no good. It appeared she agreed with the Weasley theory.

"Dinner," George spoke quietly from the door as it opened.

"Not hungry." Draco spat, turning the page in his notebook to restart the calculations, opening the silver and green volume to try to find what he was missing. George closed the door and left without another word. His mind jumped away from him again. What if they were still missing something for Hermione's potion? What if they couldn't bring her back? His chest felt tight now and he fought to push away the demonic thought of never having her back so he could focus. Draco's knee was bouncing again. He forced it to stop.

George opened the door, yelling was audible from the kitchen. "Mum says that's the third day in a row, and she's not having it. If you won't come eat, she's going to bind you and spoon feed you herself."

Third day. Already? Damn it. He had explained to the witch that his appetite vanished when he was upset. She had _not_ understood. He had promised her he would eat every three days, at least. The expression Molly Weasley had made was utterly horrified at the thought. Andromeda had backed him up there, said Narcissa had been the exact same way.

"I lost count." Draco muttered, standing and following George into the kitchen.

Molly Weasley gave him a face of concern as he took his seat. Clever witch. She kept making something tomato based every third day. It was sweet basil tomato bisque tonight, and spiked hot apple cider. This family loved their cider. Just the smell made him realize he actually was hungry.

The sweetness of the soup gnawed away some of his irritation, and the alcohol burned away some of the tightness in his chest. This cider was delicious. Draco drank the entire mug before putting it back down on the table. He _would_ get that recipe from Mrs. Weasley eventually, no matter how tight lipped she tried to be about it. He lifted his spoon to the soup again, not really listening to the conversation at the table. Finishing his soup quickly, he picked up his water glass and took a few quick chugs so he could get back to work.

He choked, trying to spit some of it out. His water was sweet. Why the _fuck_ was it sweet?!

Draco dropped his cup, recognizing the taste now. His head felt odd. How could he be so stupid? Sweet food, sweet cider, sweet water- he hadn't been prepared for any of it. The chair fell over as he stumbled to his feet. "Who drugged me?"

"I did," several voices chorused at once, followed up by: "Uh oh…" and "Wait-what?" and "Well, shit."

"Excuse me?!" Mrs. Weasley sounded outraged. His vision was starting to spin. He closed his eyes, hand to his throbbing skull. "You terrible children, what did you do?!"

His silver eyes snapped open again, trying to follow the voices and faces at the twisting table. "I got his soup," Ginny claimed. "Just a calming draft, I swear!"

"Cider," George said with a raise of his hand. "A sweet dreams potion from the shop, Mum, it's completely harmless."

"Water was me," Ron's voice continued. All the colors around the table were swirling together dangerously. Draco closed his eyes again. His entire body felt too heavy. "Something to make him tired... Think I might've used a little too much."

"No, y'think?" George quipped sarcastically, somewhere close. Draco's body almost fell to the floor. George caught him and threw an arm over his shoulder, helping Draco stagger to bed.

"Don't you take him in there!" Molly Weasley snapped, "Your awful prank mixed potions, and we have no idea if there could be interactions between them! We have to watch him. Put him in the living room. Honestly, I'm so disappointed with you three!"

George spun him around and Draco lost all orientation of where he was. "Why... did you… drug?" Draco struggled for words as they moved, slowly towards the couch.

"C'mon, Malfoy, don't be thick." He could feel George smile in that tone, a half serious, half joking smile. "You're on the verge of a nervous breakdown and nobody needs to see that." Then Draco's eyes closed and he dreamt of being in the hammock with Hermione. Just holding her. Listening to her attempt not to giggle at the glasses on his face. Feeling her hand press against his chest when she read something interesting. He turned his head, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips to her forehead. He could smell her skin and her hair. He could feel her heartbeat. _I miss you, witch. _He could hear her voice as she sat up to kiss him. _I miss you too, lover._ How long they lay that way, he had no idea. It was too good. He didn't want to wake up again.

When he woke, he was still in the living room, blinking sleepily. Draco sat up slowly. His head didn't hurt anymore. His chest felt relaxed. For the first time in weeks, he felt calm. Bill and Fleur were there with their newborns. Guess a sleeping man was pretty easy for them to watch. Fleur was struggling with something he couldn't see. Bill turned to him quickly, "Oh good, you're awake. Hold her a minute for me." A swaddled baby was placed in his arms, and Bill turned away.

Draco didn't move a single muscle, holding his breath. He'd never held a baby before. It was so small. He was almost afraid he'd break it. Draco was startled at the warmth in this small bundle. The infant opened her eyes. Blue, blue as the sky. Suddenly, the white blonde hair began to curl into soft ringlets. Draco felt the breath go out of him. Was this normal? Soft, beautiful little curls framed the infant face now. The eyes changed as he stared, from that bright, piercing blue to a deep, chocolate brown.

"Do you see this?" Draco asked in almost a whisper. His head snapped over to Bill's and back to the girl in his arms. Bill turned to look but… there was nothing to see. The eyes were bright blue, blinking at him innocently. The hair was straight as a pin. Draco's eyebrows creased in confusion, muttering to himself. "But… her hair was curled… her eyes were brown…"

Draco looked over again to see Bill and Fleur exchanging a knowing smile. Bill grinned at him as Fleur spoke. "Our baby is part Vela, Draco." Fleur explained, her accent heavy. A thin feeding blanket was over her shoulder. The little boy must've been latched to her breast. "She is, how you say," her eyes twinkled in amusement, "Capable of making you see what you want to see."

"Take her back," Draco said immediately to her Father. He was _not_ ready to deal with the emotions that swelled in his chest at that sentence. Draco put the emotions in a box, put the box in a box, wrapped chains around it and put a solid lock on the chain. _That_ was _way_ too soon, and he _absolutely refused_ to entertain the idea.

The girl, almost sensing Draco's desire to be rid of her, closed her eyes and snuggled closer to his chest. "Can't now, she'll start bawling." Bill said with a glance at that little wiggle. He gave a familiar George Weasley grin and a helpless shrug, hands open out in front of him. "Looks like she likes you! I'd get used to a cling-on real quick if I were you."

Draco stayed until baby got fussy and he _knew_ she was hungry and jealous of her brother. He did not like his ability to understand. Draco fled from the living room once he was free of the small child, hurriedly locking himself back in his room. George was sitting there, reading a Quidditch magazine, raising an eyebrow at him entering in such a rush.

That dream of Hermione had been perfect. "That potion you drugged me with," Draco asked, shutting the door, unable to stop himself. "...do you have more of it?"

"Is Mum in the kitchen?" George asked slowly. Draco shook his head no. George put down his magazine and sat up, speaking quickly and quietly, "Okay, so I lied to Mum earlier. She could know what it really is- but she thought she destroyed the whole batch ages ago. It's actually incredibly addictive, and it can cause massive hallucinations. Fucking nightmare to kick it once you're hooked. I adjusted that one specifically for you, and Hermione's the only one that'll come into the dreams- but you can't use it more than once every week or two. If you use it more, you'll start to think she's everywhere. You'll see her at breakfast, and when you try to work, and in mirrors, and when you try to sleep. It'll drive you bonkers…"

That made more sense. Something that good couldn't be so easy. Damn. "Why would you make something with those kind of side effects?"

George was quiet for a moment. He stared at the floor, eyes far away from this room. "...Fred. I just… I needed to see him again. I _had_ to see him again. But I got addicted. Breaking it was the worst. Seriously, don't screw around with this stuff." George nodded at Draco's desk. "I gave you two more doses… I'd suggest you save them, take one after the really bad nightmares… It helps. But you better hide it from my mother. If she finds them, I'm gonna lose my other ear."


	49. Chapter 49: Something Good

**Chapter 49: Something Good**

Christmas. Draco wasn't sure if the Dementors would show up, now that Rodolphus was gone, but he had still warned the Potter's about Luna's vision. Instead of holing up in Grimmauld Place for their first Christmas together like they had planned, the two joined the family at the Burrow.

Draco, however, wanted nothing to do with the rowdy, loud, celebratory Weasley's. He'd made it perfectly clear to every single person that he would be spending a _quiet_ evening at St. Mungo's with Hermione. As he entered the hospital, it was snowing lightly, and he brushed it from his shoulder, which had finally stopped aching. They would be giving her and Longbottom's parents the potion very soon. He'd been working to restrain his emotions ever since November, mainly to avoid another ordeal where multiple Weasley's decided they needed to drug him at the kitchen table.

Externally, he succeeded in presenting his normal, calm, almost aloof self. Even Molly Weasley had started to believe the cool, collected image he portrayed around the Burrow now. Realistically, he was completely wracked with anxiety. He was back to not knowing if he slept or if he spent the night staring at the ceiling. Draco could work himself up into a panic attack within minutes if he let his mind run away from him. It took a lot of breathing and meditation to keep up that face in front of that family. George seemed to be the only person able to see through his mask. That was okay, though. George was the only Weasley who actually appeared to understand and respect Draco's need to be left alone. He'd also been the only one to see him crack.

Several nights ago, Draco had woken, drenched in sweat and tears, from the worst nightmare of his life. All of his recurring nightmares had woven themselves together to form one terrible rollercoaster of emotion. He'd seen and heard Hermione tortured by Bellatrix, his Father torturing his Mother, his Father slitting his throat, the blood, his Mother being killed, Narcissa and Hermione dropping and not knowing what had happened, the sound of Andromeda murdering Rodolphus, the fake Teddy's bloody body, Luna's awful vision, and it had ended with Hermione never waking up again. He had woken with a horrible scream, bolted up in bed, and _completely_ lost it. Draco remembered it like it had happened to someone else. George had locked his arms around Draco, and held him so tightly, that Draco felt like it was the only thing keeping his body in one piece. Once he'd been able to breathe again, George had forced the first of the two sweet dreams potion down his throat, followed by a sleeping potion that was well beyond legal limits. This time, his dream had been of Hermione's first bold kiss, the first time she playfully made herself comfortable on his bed, flying together and eating breakfast together, reading the Daily Prophet side by side. And it kept going, replaying their best memories together. He had slept and dreamt nearly an entire day.

The stress of the past several months needed to end. He was cracking up. What state would he have been in if he had needed to wait an entire year? That was a disquieting thought. How the _hell_ did Longbottom manage to take care of the plants in the ward so calmly, and exist around two people who didn't even know who he was? The Father, Frank, never interacted with Neville. The Mother, what was her name, Alice?, kept giving Neville bubblegum wrappers. Draco didn't understand two things. There was no gum in the closed ward. She never ate it. How the hell did she keep getting those wrappers? And why did Longbottom pocket every single one?

The idea of spending _years_ waiting, the idea of _accepting_ the state his witch was in, the way Longbottom had been given no other choice… that almost made him have a panic attack in the hall as he walked. Draco took several deep breaths as he moved, reminding himself that they were giving her the potion _very soon,_ and that he would **not** be forced in that position. He needed Hermione to come back, and to be able to return to the Manor without fear of someone dragging him out of it. Draco also needed to be able to properly grieve his parents and actually make a plan for their ashes. That felt like too much right now, but their loss had been catching up with him rather painfully over the past few months while he researched how to bring her parents back. He hadn't expected that. He wished there was a way to do it for Lucius and Narcissa, too. But the silver and green volume spoke the same words on death as any other medical tome. Death was death. There was no bringing back someone whose magical core had stopped flowing.

Draco needed to stop letting his mind run away. He shook his head as he entered the closed ward. Neville looked up at him from near his parents, waving a hand in greeting. Draco nodded back, looking around the ward with an approving gaze. In early December, Longbottom had decorated this ward with poinsettia, ivy, garland, holly, and white Christmas roses. Draco had enchanted magical candles amidst the plants, and the ceiling so fake snow softly fell, dusting the greenery. Neville had added something new tonight that hadn't been there this month with the rest of the plants. There was a delicate chain of bubblegum wrappers, folded together and carefully connected. It easily wove in and out of the plants, circling the entire room twice- or more?! He couldn't tell. How long had Longbottom been making that thing?

Hermione was sitting on the couch. His heart jumped in his throat for a moment. Why was she always waiting for him now? Draco sat, brushing her hair away and kissing her cheek in a silent greeting. He pulled a book from his bag and she was resting against him before he even said a word. That had started after that last nightmare, too, almost like she could sense that he wasn't okay. He wasn't sure if her strange new affection made it better or worse for his heart.

"Brought you a muggle treat today," he muttered, pulling a battered copy of _A Christmas Carol_ from his bag. He'd never heard of this book, and he'd never read it. Ginny had gone through Hermione's things to find it, and insisted that Draco take it to the hospital this evening. Apparently, Hermione had a secret obsession with this book around the holidays. Every December, Ginny had seen her with it, tucked under her pillow, next to her bed, wrapped in her arms like a teddy bear. She'd read it multiple times, and she'd forgo any new books until the New Year.

Draco put on his glasses and flipped open the front cover to see a note penned there. He read it silently, then slowly, he drew his wand, and flicked it at the book so it would float in front of him. For the first time in many months, Draco turned his body, wrapping his arms around Hermione and squeezing her gently, kissing the back of her head. He'd tried this a few times before, but every time he did, she had promptly gotten up, and hadn't sat with him while he read to her. If that were the price this time, then sobeit. He read the inscription aloud, softly, to her ear as he held her.

_Happy Christmas, bookworm! This is your Mother's first copy of her favorite book. It took a LOT to convince her to let me give it to you this year. She might come steal it back from you while you're sleeping! Just kidding. It was her idea. Though… she'll probably want to sit down and read it with you every Christmas. I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with that. You two will sit and read, and I'll be stuck making breakfast alone every holiday from now on. Poor me! We love you, Hermione! You're our world, little girl. Love always, Mom and Dad. (p.s. Remember to floss!)_

Hermione didn't pull away from him this time. In fact, he could've sworn he felt her relax into him more. His imagination was cruel. Draco tapped a finger against his wand and it turned the page as he started to read. They stayed that way for a long time. Draco didn't expect it to be a ghost story.

The next thing he knew, he was very warm and relaxed. He'd dozed off. The book had fallen somewhere. Draco lifted his head from the side of the couch, blinking sleepily. What chapter had he left off on? Surprisingly, Hermione was still there, in fact, her head was also pressed against the couch… she was asleep in his arms. That hadn't happened once since she'd been admitted here. Where had her book gone? Draco looked to the floor. She'd be furious with him if he lost it. Then he paused, looking over her shoulder. Hermione had her arms wrapped around the book and held it close to her chest. He smiled at that, resting his head back against the couch and kissing the back of her head. That simple sight was reassuring in a way nothing else had been until this moment. Hermione _was_ still there, and she _would_ come back when they gave her the potion. She was just waiting for it, now. That was all.

A low, musical hoot made him jump. He raised his head again to see Calypso sitting on the other edge of the couch. She picked at a letter she'd put down on the cushion. Draco's forehead creased in confusion. "What are you doing in here?" Owls weren't supposed to be in the hospital. Calypso clawed at the note again, more urgently. He reluctantly released Hermione and carefully detangled himself from her. She stayed asleep like that. Draco picked up the letter, sitting down in its place. Calypso hopped into his lap and pressed her feathered head hard to his chest. He broke the seal.

_Mr. Malfoy-_

_I woke in the middle of the night with a sudden concern about Miss Granger's treatment. Please come see me at once._

_-Ollivander_

Draco wasn't sure how to describe the emotion he felt in his chest from that short sentence. It wasn't fear, and it wasn't panic. Dread? Helplessness? Futility? He gave Calypso a soft stroke on her feathered head. "You need to go home, girl, you shouldn't be here." She nipped at his finger reassuringly before she flew to the door and he stood, pausing a moment before following. Draco turned to Hermione, lifted her carefully and walked her to her bed, tucking her in. She never let go of that book.

Moments later Draco found himself entering the wand maker's shop at an ungodly hour. If possible, it was even more eerie in the stillness at this hour. He could almost hear whispers dying away as he strode in through the front. Ollivander was in his pajamas, nightcap tilted on his head. He appeared anxious. That did nothing to help Draco's unraveling nerves. Ollivander motioned him to the back room. Without a word of complaint, Draco followed, placing his wand in the strange case with Ollivander's and entered the tea room. There was no tea prepared this time, just a table and chairs.

"What concern?" Draco asked quickly as soon as the door shut.

Ollivander motioned him to the table while speaking at the same time. "Miss Granger's blood has been prepared using Bellatrix's wand. However, it was the attack the day you lost your arm that set her over the edge." Ollivander pulled out a pensieve and a memory. He looked tired. "The problem, is that I don't see that man's face until the _end_ of your memory. I need you to be _absolutely certain_ that Rodolphus Lestrange was the one who attacked her at the Burrow before I set his wand to her blood next. If I use the wrong wand… if it curses the blood, but he never attacked her… she'll never be healed."

Draco watched Ollivander pour the memory into the basin. "I will be coming with you, Mr. Malfoy. I need you to keep Lestrange in your sight and point him out to me. We may need to do this more than once."

Draco wasn't ready to see his mother die again, multiple times. But he'd do it if it meant Hermione's treatment would succeed. He closed his eyes for a moment to brace himself. This was going to tear him up.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Draco's eyes snapped open and he looked over sharply. Ollivander jumped, then frowned. "Merlin, who could that-"

The door opened. Draco saw Luna Lovegood standing there. She entered and shut the door behind her with a soft click, hands behind her back. Ollivander took his nightcap off immediately, clutching it between his hands. "Miss Lovegood? Sweet child, what are you-"

"That was an awful thing you were about to do," Luna said softly, eyes sad as she lowered her arms. Three wands were in her hands, two in one hand, one in the other. Ollivander's eyes flickered to them and then back to Luna's face. He looked at a loss for words. "Draco Malfoy doesn't deserve it. Hermione Granger doesn't, either. It's none of your business, Garrick Ollivander."

Draco had never heard Luna speak to the old man in such a cold tone. Ollivander's eyes flickered to the pensieve in front of him and back to Luna. "Lovegood," Draco found his voice, "What in the hell is going on?"

"Mr. Ollivander taught his wand a new trick," Luna said, turning the individual wand between her fingertips. "He wanted to steal something from your wand, Draco Malfoy… memories of your wand acting on its own." The frown on her face was deep. "I never suspected you to be a thief, wandmaker. That was wrong of you."

"Luna-" Ollivander was paling. He swallowed hard, "My… my sweet child, how could you think that I-"

"Oh no. I knew you lied, but honestly? To me, Mr. Ollivander?" Tears welled in Luna's large eyes. "I don't think I can hear your excuses tonight. Come with me, take your wand, Draco Malfoy, go home… and don't worry. He didn't get anything from you."

Draco stood, feeling almost dreamlike. Was this another nightmare? He walked to Luna. She dropped Ollivander's wand to the floor, turned and opened the door. They both took one last look at the wandmaker. "...Luna… please… let me explain." Ollivander hadn't moved, he was staring at Luna with a shamed expression.

She shook her head no, clearly saying she wasn't listening to him tonight. "You think about this. You were about to sit there, and make a man watch his mother die, repeatedly, so that your wand had time to steal from him." Her eyes were glowing fiercely. "...that is such a terrible thing. Don't you dare invite me for tea again until you regret what you almost did this night."

Once outside the whispers of the shop, Luna handed Draco back his wand. They were the only two on the street at this hour. It was starting to snow. Their breath came in a fog in the cold. He felt angry that he'd left Hermione for this, and confused that Luna once again knew things that she shouldn't know. "Lovegood... I thought you couldn't read any more of my connections now that I gave you that necklace back."

"I wasn't reading yours," Luna explained gently, tucking her wand behind her ear as she spoke. "I was reading _his._ Mr. Ollivander isn't such a bad man, when you get to know him…" she sighed heavily. "He's just a tad obsessed about wands, and would do pretty much anything to learn more… I am sorry that it interrupted your Christmas with Hermione."

Draco felt the breath go out of him. He stared at her. What? How had she known? "Luna…"

"She's still wearing her charm," Luna replied easily, shrugging her shoulders. It was starting to snow harder, clinging to their hair and clothes. "None of it really makes any sense, to be honest. It's all colors and shapes and sounds. A very beautiful kind of dream. I know that she likes it when you're there, and she was very happy tonight. I don't know what you did, but it was something special. Something good."


	50. Chapter 50: Hermione

**Chapter 50: Hermione**

He could barely contain his nerves. It was December 27th. They were ready. The Healers had called in Draco, Kingsley, the Weasley's, the Potter's, Neville, his Grandmother and Ollivander. Luna had come to be there with Neville, no matter what happened. Andromeda had come to support Draco. He was grateful that she spent most of the time keeping Molly Weasley away from him. Neville was pale, and unable to contain his nerves, unable to keep himself from asking the Healers the same questions repeatedly.

Draco had pointedly told George that he needed every single person at the Burrow to leave him the fuck alone once they got into the closed ward today. George had relayed that message to everyone, and for once, it looked like the Weasleys were going to honor his request. He couldn't listen or look at Longbottom. If he focused on that man, his own anxiety was going to hit the roof. Draco completely ignored Ollivander, and refused to meet Lovegood's knowing gaze. Kingsley had been the only person to interact with him, and that had merely been a silent nod, which he'd been able to return. Kingsley, Bill and Arthur Weasley stood near the entrance, speaking to each other in low, quiet tones. George stood with Ginny, Harry and Ron at the back wall. Andromeda, Neville's Gran, and Molly Weasley sat on the couch, drinking tea. Luna and the wandmaker were with Neville. He was sitting by Hermione's bed, white roses sitting in a vase with her book next to it. More waiting. The last bit of waiting. This was a special kind of hell.

Now, Draco was silently going through the potion log, doing one final analysis before the Healers came to administer the potions. Everything looked good. Everything looked ready. It had to work. He closed the folder and put in his lap, feeling his leg bouncing, unable to stop it this time.

He wasn't ready when the Healers walked in with the doses. Amy went to Neville's parents. Thomas went to Hermione. Everyone fell completely silent and gathered closer. The potions were administered at the same time. The entire room held its breath. Neville began to cry, unable to hold it in any longer. Draco tried to ignore him, tried to stay calm and collected, though his heart was doing strange things in his body.

"Neville…" a woman's voice spoke first. Neville's sobs grew louder. Draco swallowed hard and his eyes tore from Hermione to the Longbottom's beds. Alice Longbottom was now sobbing, holding her son to her chest tightly, unable to speak. Frank took a little longer. He blinked confusedly and swayed slightly. Kingsley caught his arm. Frank met his eyes, then they widened in surprise, reaching out to put his hand on his friend's face, eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "Kings... Kings, is that you? Blimey… you got old."

Kingsley laughed as he held out his hand. Frank took it and they embraced like brothers. When Kingsley drew back, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Yes, I did… welcome back, old friend."

Draco ripped his eyes away and back to Hermione. She hadn't moved. A large wall of emotion began to creep up on him. The Longbottoms were back. Their damage had been far more extensive than Hermione's, and it had lasted many more years. But they were back. Fear began to burn a hole in his chest. Why were they back first? Why wasn't Hermione? What was wrong? He examined her face carefully again. Absolutely nothing had changed. It was just like his mother. Why did his witches make him wait? He couldn't deal with the noise of the Longbottom's tearful reunion. He was on the edge of breaking down. "Thomas," he growled, "Silencing charms and curtain."

The Healer obeyed without question. Draco's heard a strange ringing in his ears now that the noise in the room had dissipated. The curtain ruffled slightly. Ron sat down in the chair next to him. Harry, Ginny and George followed, standing at the edge of Hermione's bed. Ginny held Harry's hand tightly. George had both arms crossed tightly over his chest. No one spoke. Draco leaned forward, squeezing Hermione's hand gently. _Come on, witch, what are you waiting for?_

Hermione could see everything in sharp focus. Mentally, she'd returned. Everything was there, everything was crystal clear again. She wanted to sob, seeing Neville's reunion with his parents. He must've been so happy- she wanted to jump up and down and scream and clap her hands and cry- but she couldn't move. Draco growled for the curtains and silencing charm, and she knew he was upset. Narcissa was standing next to her, leaning forward to examine Hermione's eyes. _Why isn't it working? Narcissa… Am I stuck like this forever? _The curtain ruffled. Ron sat next to Draco, quickly followed by Harry, Ginny and George. No one spoke. They were all waiting, all watching. Her unshed tears felt ready to burst. _Why can't I go back?_

Narcissa smiled gently at her, reaching forward to Hermione's face. _Because, my dear, there is one ingredient left._ Her hands held Hermione's cheeks and two gentle thumbs stroked from her eyelids, all the way down her cheeks. Narcissa faded away from sight as her vision swam.

Everyone sucked in a sharp breath at the same time. Ron and Draco went rigid, staring. Ron spoke first, blue eyes wide, going pale. "She's crying."

"I can see that." Draco snapped. They both jumped up from their chairs, alarmed.

"Why's she crying?" Ron snapped back irritably, fists clenched at his sides.

"I don't know. Thomas!" Draco held her face gently between his hands and tried to softly brush the tears away with his thumbs. The Healer already had his wand in hand and was scanning Hermione quickly. No good. The tears kept coming- even faster now. He pulled his hands away sharply, afraid he'd made it worse.

Ron grabbed his arm tightly, shaking it. "Fix it!"

Draco felt sick. "I can't!" _Come on Hermione, don't do this, don't do this, don't do this..._

"Don't say that! Fix it!" Ron's voice had an edge of panic to it. Draco couldn't think. He shook Ron's hand off of him, taking Hermione's hand in both of his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You're not helping." Draco growled. The Healer finished his scan and was reading the results. "Thomas, what's wrong? Why is she doing this?"

The Healer looked baffled as he read. "I don't know… she could be in some kind of pain… but there's nothing abnormal about her scan at all now. She's healed… the damage is gone."

Draco racked his brain and spoke quickly. "Is there more of her potion? Can we give her another dose?"

Thomas shook his head no with conviction. "Absolutely not. A second dose would kill her."

Everyone in the curtained area became very still at those words. Draco felt like a tidal wave of grief was approaching him, and an endless numbness, all at the same time. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke, slowly releasing her hand. _No..._ "What?"

"...I'm sorry…" Thomas spoke softly, lowering his wand in defeat. "...but it looks like... the treatment failed for Miss Granger..."

Silence. Awful, final silence.

Ginny began to cry first. She sobbed, turning to Harry, her voice breaking as she cried louder. Harry held her tightly, burying his face into her hair, the man's own shoulders shaking in silent sobs. George put a hand over his face, bowing his head. Neither Ron or Draco moved a muscle, standing there, stunned.

"**No**." Anger hit him first- the tip of the iceberg. There was _no good reason_ this hadn't worked! He'd read through the logs _repeatedly_. It _worked_ for Narcissa. It _worked_ for the Longbottoms. It had to work for Hermione! Luna's vision- he'd seen her at the New Year, hadn't he? But then again, the Dementors had never attacked the Potter's... Maybe Narcissa's death had altered things more than he expected. But hadn't Luna said the price had been paid? Narcissa's death should've been enough. God damn that premonition! It had to be right. Thomas had to be wrong! _He had to be wrong._ His stomach felt like it was in knots when his brain unhelpfully chimed in with the recollection that premonitions weren't always true. They were nothing more than ripples on a pond. He'd gotten his hopes up, believing it to be true. Breathing became a chore. He felt the fury double- quadruple in his chest as a strange hiss of air escaped his lips.

Ron's fists unclenched. He spoke very quietly. "Malfoy-"

Captain Obvious was about to open his mouth. Draco didn't want to hear it. He glared at the man at his side, silencing him with one commanding look. "No, damn you, don't you say it!" Unable to stop himself, he turned to Hermione and held her shoulders, giving her a rough shake. _Don't you do this, Granger! _Ron and George were there suddenly, prying his fingers away, struggling to wrestle him away from her and force him up against a wall. George was crying as he spoke a painful, "Calm down-"

"Don't you tell me to calm down!" Draco struggled to reach for her again, but Ron bear hugged him with a grip so tight he couldn't move at all. "Malfoy… she's-"

Panic was rising in his chest. He knew that tone. He couldn't hear those words. His voice felt like it belonged to someone else as he snarled, "Don't you dare..."

"She's not-"

"Don't you fucking say it, Weasley!" He exploded, panicking, struggling harder to be released.

"_Draco…" _Ron's voice was thick with tears. "Hermione's not coming back."

That did it. All the fight went out of his body. The wave hit him. He couldn't breathe and as closed his eyes, the burn of tears threatened to drown him. "...no…" A strangled sob escaped his lips. This was just a nightmare. It had to be another nightmare. He had wanted her to finish reading that damn book to him. He'd wanted to see her someday, curled up reading with her mother, and face the awkwardness of preparing breakfast with her father. He wanted… but none of it mattered if she couldn't come back. None of it. Nothing.

Ron's grasp was the only thing that kept Draco from drawing his wand and putting it to his temple as the pain of her loss finally hit him. "_No_." Unrestrained tears broke down his face. This was worse than any nightmare.

There was a sudden loud sob. Someone launched at them and clung to their sides. His eyes snapped open. Hermione was there, sobbing, clutching both of them. Out of bed. Standing. Sobbing. Ron released Draco and suddenly Draco found himself in the midst of a giant mess of arms and tears, everyone was shouting and crying. Thomas ripped the curtain away with a pull of his arm, and the entire room exploded with noise around them. Amidst the chaos, Draco managed to take Hermione fully in his arms and hold her tight, kissing her forehead, the tears still flowing down his face. "God damn you," he hissed into the top of her head, "Why did you make me wait?"

Hermione sobbed breathless apologies, clinging to him, unable to form words. Draco refused to let go, holding her tightly, hoping this wasn't another dose of the sweet dream draft. He wouldn't survive waking up from a dream like this.

Once they were all able to control their emotions a little more, Hermione, Alice and Frank sat down in the room, more couches and chairs summoned, and they explained what it had been like to be in that state. The Healers were scribbling down every word ferociously. Draco's notepad floated, taking notes without his help. Neville sat between his parents, still crying, unable to stop the flow of tears, even though he was able to talk, and smile, and laugh with the rest of them. Draco sat there, Hermione so close she could've been in his lap, one arm around her waist, the other hand holding hers. He had no awareness where anyone else in the room stood. The Healers reflected that the last ingredient must have something to do with tears.

Something had broken in Draco today. He didn't know what it was, and he didn't know if he needed it. He squeezed her hand as the conversations continued. She was back. That night, he woke from his first nightmare of the moment when she actually hadn't woken. He bolted up in bed, drenched in cold sweat. Hermione's hand found his. Her lips found his forehead. He held her in silence, shaking, and soon they were dressed and she was on the back of his broom as they flew lowly under the stars amidst the beautiful water surrounding the Manor, her tight grasp around his body reminding him that she _had_ woken.

The nightmares would take a very long time to go away, he knew. He hoped she could tolerate him just needing her close. She had tried to seduce him, the second they were in his bedroom alone. He had been just as surprised as she was when he nearly had a panic attack in her arms. Draco had no choice but to sit her down and honestly shown her the memories of how emotionally raw he had become in her absence- and that he _needed_ to restart physical things with her _slowly_. He didn't want to. His body wanted her, and needed her, but his mind and his emotions felt far too sensitive for it right now. Revealing that much truth had been difficult, but he found that he couldn't lie to her again… not yet, at least. She had held his face in both hands and kissed his forehead. They had laid down together to sleep, and awoken together with his nightmare, and now here they were.

He felt one arm move away, the other tightening around him, and heard her fingers lightly touch the surface of the water as they flew, trusting him to keep the broom steady as her weight shifted them slightly. Gods, he hoped his mind would catch up to reality soon.


	51. Chapter 51: New Year

**Chapter 51: New Year**

The New Year party had been a dream, an _absolute_ dream! Draco had invited everyone- Harry, Ginny, Ron, George, Percy, Bill, Fleur, Luna, Xenophilius, Neville, Alice, Frank, Kingsley, and the whole host of guests that Molly Weasley had planned to have at her home- Hagrid, Minerva, The Diggory's, Arthur's work friends, extended family, so many people she didn't know- and the Manor had seen a celebration like nothing she had ever known. The fiendfyre never destroyed the valley. Apparently, the magic in Narcissa's blood had erased much of the suffering from Luna's vision.

Kissing Draco at midnight for the first time had been secluded and special, hidden under the stars and moon, behind the waterfall- beyond everyone's eyes. This hidden romantic side of him surprised her, and filled her with desire. She'd wanted to take him, right then and there. He'd gently refused- she could tell it tore him up to do it. Hermione wasn't sure how much longer she could respect his need to go slow. Every time he said no, her body responded with a stronger and stronger need for a _yes_. It was stretching her already thin patience. It had been a terrible surprise that first night she'd come back to his bedroom, aching to touch him again, and he'd nearly lost it as she'd tried to put her hands on him.

Two weeks into the New Year, and it was starting to strain things between them. He had started sleeping on the couch, both at the Manor and the Burrow, because she apparently couldn't keep her hands off of him when she was asleep. Neither slept as well apart as they did together. One of them was going to have to give, soon, and she did _not _think it would be her.

He was trying, that much she had to give him credit for- but it was almost making things worse. They'd ended up half naked together, multiple times now, but either he'd told her he needed to stop, or he hadn't been able to get hard. Draco was absolutely ashamed of it, and that made it even more difficult to do anything about it. At her insistence, he'd reluctantly promised to bring it up with Healer Thomas, but that promise had cost her. Draco had started returning to her later and later at night, waking up earlier and earlier to kiss her goodbye.

Where was he going all the time? He refused to tell her. Hermione had picked up the research for her parents again to distract her from his distant behavior, and Draco had suggested she use his book to search for anything helpful. She had found a few chapters that looked promising. Draco beamed at her every time he saw her working on it, and it never failed to get a fantastic hug and loving kiss. It didn't matter if they were at the Manor, or the Burrow. He looked so happy in those moments, and the hug was amazing, and his kiss was excellent... but she wanted more than that. She _needed_ more than that from him.

When he had taken up this strange schedule, and refused to explain it, she'd forced him to promise to come home before midnight. Promised! Now, she lay alone in his bed, tense, trying not to look on the wall at the time. She rolled into her stomach, noticing the new clock by his bedside for the first time, and that it read midnight. That did it. She was livid. It was the first promise he'd broken.

Hermione had taken the floo to Grimmauld Place, woken Ginny within seconds, and told her to find him for her so she could give him a piece of her mind. Both women had been startled to discover he was at St. Mungo's. Fear for his safety flooded her senses as she used the floo to get there, ignoring Ginny's offer to go with her. She rushed to the front desk to find out where he was. The Diagnostic Ward. Hermione felt a sense of dread as she hurried down the familiar hall. What was wrong? Why hadn't he told her anything? Secrets… she understood now why Ginny had been so angry. Secrets between them were poison, and neither of them had realized what he had been doing with his silence.

At the end of the hall, Hermione froze. Thomas, Amy and Draco were standing there in the hall. They all looked exhausted. However, Amy was bouncing on her heels with excitement, and the smile she gave Draco made Hermione's stomach twist unpleasantly. Draco said something she couldn't hear. Thomas laughed. Amy suddenly reached up, took Draco's face in both hands and kissed him once on each cheek. Draco's eyes went wide in shock. Amy turned and repeated the same gesture to Thomas. They were all laughing- Draco was blushing.

It didn't matter that Amy did it to both of them. Jealousy and pain ripped through her, stealing her breath away. Fear for his safety fled, and now she wanted to hurt him, and she wanted to run away and never see him again. Draco's eyes caught hers. She saw the smile vanish, he looked concerned and confused and surprised now. Without waiting for an explanation, she trusted her instinct to run. Hermione turned on the spot, appearing back at the Manor. She'd pack her things and go to the Burrow for a few days until she calmed down enough to… what? Talk to him? Break his nose? She wasn't sure which was the better option right now. A vase of flowers he'd gotten her exploded when she looked at it. Breaking his nose. That sounded better.

He was too quick for her, though. When Draco apparated behind her, she raised her wand to strike him, but he disarmed her without a word. Then, he flicked his wand. All the windows and doors slammed shut. Even the fireplace slammed closed so that the floo powder would be useless. He went to the bedside table, opened a drawer angrily, threw both their wands inside, slammed the drawer shut, then turned a key to lock it. Hermione stood there, frozen in shock as he pocketed the key.

She didn't recognize her own voice when she spoke. "Give me back my wand, Draco."

He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring coldly at her. "Absolutely not. I'm not letting you run away like this."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "I said, _give it back_!"

Draco's eyes never left hers as he shook his head no. "Not a chance."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, stomping over towards him. "I wasn't asking! I'm telling you- you're going to give it back!"

He uncrossed his arms, stalking forward to meet her. "I have a better idea. You're going to stay here, and we're really going to _fight_ this one out, Granger."

A ripple of fury coursed through her. He kept forward, and now she stepped back, feeling like her hair was standing on end. Somewhere in her mind, a warning bell sounded not to let him corner her, that it wouldn't end well if he did. She didn't care right now, she had to keep space between them. She wasn't sure what would happen if he tried to touch her.

"Wands not allowed, doors stay locked til this is solved." Draco said softly, eyes glittering. He was hurt. Good. "Explain why you're trying to leave me." Her back hit the wall.

The words exploded out of her. "Draco, you're hiding something from me!"

He had the _audacity_ to look confused. "I am not!" Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. That was a _lie_! She could see it, she could feel it.

"Don't you dare!" Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes at him, "Don't you dare try to lie to me!" Hermione felt herself going pale with rage. She'd never felt this angry. "Explain why you've been going to St. Mungo's all the time- and why you blushed when Amy kissed you!" Hermione felt herself shaking with rage. She was beyond tears with her anger- she had _never_ felt this hurt. "Did something happen between you two while I was stuck like that? Is it still going on? Is that why you won't touch me?"

His eyes widened in understanding, and disbelief. "_What?!_ Are you _insane?!_" Then he did the most unthinkable thing: he laughed. Hermione's jaw dropped. He was _laughing_ at her! NOW?! Stupid man! She went rigid. Her hands clenched into fists and she stomped her foot hard on the ground with her first three words, nearly getting his foot under hers. "_**Don't you dare**_ laugh at me! I SAW you with her, just now at St. Mungo's!"

He tried to stop laughing unsuccessfully, and he tried to gently take her hand. "Hermione, listen, you're jumping to conclusions-"

Hermione tore her hand out of his, the words ripping from her throat painfully. "THEN TELL ME THE TRUTH, DAMN YOU!"

"I can't!" he roared back at her, still half laughing, eyes glittering in amusement at her rage, "It's supposed to be a surprise, you fucking jealous witch!"

That was a face _begging_ to be punished. Arrogant son of a snake! Hermione wanted to fuck him, and she wanted to rip his hair out. She compromised by holding his face in her hands, one hand digging into his hair, and kissing him harder than she ever had- nearly forcing her tongue in his mouth. She felt him tense, and pull away- felt his panic attack start, but her patience for that was long gone. Her fingers released his hair and she couldn't stop herself.

Her hand smacked him across the face. He caught her wrist and pinned it above her head, his laughter gone, a furious glint in his eyes. Her other hand hit him, turning his face with the blow. He trapped that one too, frowning now. One cheek would bruise, she was certain. Part of her was angry it wasn't both. Words tumbled from her lips without her permission. "Damn you, it's been _months_, Draco! I _want_ you! I want you so much it _hurts_! Why are you making this so difficult?"

Draco's lips crushed to hers as he pushed her up against the wall with his body, a wonderfully familiar out of control sensation in his kiss. She felt a strong hardness against her thigh. _Now_ he was ready? _Now _he finally responded to how starved she was for his touch? Too bad! _Now _she wanted to hit him again! But she couldn't resist kissing him back. When he pulled away, she glared up at him. "And another thing-"

He kissed her, more gently, squeezing her wrists softly. He almost distracted her. She bit his lip and he pulled back quickly. "Not now! Get your hands off of me!" He released her immediately but didn't step away. She pushed at his chest to force him to back up, and stuck an angry finger at his face. "Don't you try that now, Draco Lucius Malfoy, I'm not done yelling at you!"

"Hermione, I can't fix everything at once!" He growled, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it away from him. He stepped forward and her fingers curled against his undershirt. He kept his hands off her, but his lips brushed her ear as he continued in an angry hiss. His body was trembling slightly. He wasn't ready for this, but he wasn't about to refuse her. "How am I supposed to _think_ about anything else, after hearing you say that? You can yell at me as much as you want _after _I fix this..." His teeth nipped at her ear. She wanted to yell at him some more, but the sensation of his teeth on her again lit all the sexual frustration in her body and set it on fire. Hermione put her hands on his belt and undid it rougher than she should've. "I don't care if you're ready for this or not, Draco, you had _better_ finish what you're starting."

After they'd reconnected against that wall, on the couch and in bed, she'd forced him to tell her what he was being so secretive about. Draco hadn't given in willingly, but eventually he got up, gone to get a notebook from his potion lab, and laid it in her lap. He could've just summoned it. She didn't really understand why he'd done it that way. Inside were complicated calculations for restoring memories. Countless hours of research and dead ends- but by the look of the final pages, he had _almost_ figured it out. She sat there, stunned, and had begun crying and apologizing intensely for overreacting and behaving so poorly. Draco had laughed at her again, but he'd also kissed her forehead, and asked her to promise him something for the first time.

"Granger… you better fight with me when you're mad. Lock up our wands, lock down this room, and hit me if you want to. Yell-scream-bite- I don't _fucking_ care…" he kissed her temple, "...but promise me you'll never walk away again without a fight. Don't you try to run away from me like that, ever again." He put a finger to her lips for a moment before she spoke. "Only promise me if you _mean _it."

"You weren't home by midnight." Hermione growled irritably at him, finally telling him the reason why she'd gone after him to begin with. She felt a rush of anger as she recalled his broken promise.

"It wasn't midnight!" Draco argued back immediately, searching the walls for the time. Hermione took his jaw and pulled it down, pointing to the one by their bed, then pausing in confusion. That one still had both hands pointed to midnight. Her forehead creased in confusion, and she slowly sat up, taking it in her hands and giving it a shake. "What?"

He half smiled and half frowned as it took it away from her, looking almost amused. "I forget that you muggle-borns don't know about so many things about the wizarding world. Hermione," he kissed her softly, shaking his head in amusement, a grin splitting his face as he shook the damn clock in his hand and spoke patiently. "You were reading my apparition clock. It would have automatically summoned me back here by midnight, if you'd given it a chance. I set it up today so you'd _know_ I would keep my promise, even if just barely… I knew the meeting tonight could've run late. We're so close to figuring this out..." He rested his forehead against hers with a sigh, "What am I going to do with you, witch?"

She burst into tears, upset that she'd gotten everything so wrong, and that he had actually tried to show her everything was alright. At that point, Draco was back to laughing at her, although he did hold her close and kiss her and pull at her curls until the tears had finally stopped.

Not long later, she was falling asleep in his arms again. Everything was good. Everything was finally back to the way it was supposed to be. "Hermione…Are you awake?" She didn't respond, she was drinking in this moment, and she had no more words to say. "Granger?" Silence.

Draco sighed in relief, rested his head against the pillow and started talking non-stop. "Woman, I thought I lost you today. When I saw that look on your face, I wasn't sure there was any way to bring you back. I don't think I've ever seen anyone that angry. I'm surprised you didn't punch me in the face the second I got back." She was surprised. Was this what he had done while she'd been in a trance? He had read to her, she knew, but had he spoken this stream of consciousness at her? Maybe she needed to start making sure she fell asleep after him.

He kept going. "I'm still trying to figure out how to keep from lying to you… it's an old habit, and it's going to take a long time to kick it… but I'll always tell you what they are eventually. I told you one today- one you didn't call me out on… the door was never locked. You could've walked out anytime… Merlin, I'm glad you didn't, I'm still too afraid to tell you this… but it'll never be locked. You can always walk away if you need to… as long as you come back. I'm not beyond dragging you back, if I have to, but I hope you don't make me do that."

Draco relaxed then. Almost like releasing the lie had given him permission to sleep. "I love you, witch…" he was falling asleep, his words unclear as he spoke, "…and I always will…"

Her chest swelled with love for him. That was decided, then. She was never going to be the first one to fall asleep, ever again.


	52. Chapter 52: The Beginning

**Chapter 52: The Beginning**

Draco opened his eyes, feeling a little groggy. He never slept well the first few nights in a new place. Hermione was already out of bed. He sat up, looking around her childhood room with a smirk. Bookcases covered every wall, and she had charmed more to the ceiling. It was a little charming, some of the curious similarities between them.

It was Christmas Day. He had her back for almost a full year now. Snow was covering the windowsill, and still falling from the sky. He had wanted to take a midnight flight in it last night, but Hermione had explained that Muggles really wouldn't understand that. They had gone on a stroll, arm in arm instead. It had been beautiful, he had to admit, he did like being able to see her face light up as they walked and talked. There were so many rules to act like a Muggle. It was harder than the thought it would be. Especially not using his wand in public! Hermione had taken it away from him at one point while traveling, and only given it back when they were safely inside her parents home. He had argued with her about traveling the Muggle way, and he was almost sure she wouldn't make him do it again… but her little smile made him concerned.

They had managed to bring her parents mostly back by August. They still had some chunks of time missing, and they would likely never get them back at this point… but it was enough for them to know Hermione was their daughter, she was a witch, they loved her with all their hearts, and they were homesick. They had returned home as Wendell and Monica Granger. Their old names were lost to them forever. Hermione was a _damn_ powerful witch.

Hermione and Draco both were working now as private researchers. They traveled a lot together, and worked on many different projects. He focused a lot more on healing projects while Hermione focused more on welfare rights for non-wizard magical creatures. Sometimes they worked together. It was fascinating, and it was never ending. This holiday was a bit of a relief.

He showered, magiced his teeth clean, changed, and made his way downstairs. Hermione and her mother were sitting side by side on the couch, both curled up with a cup of something hot, a blanket over their shoulders, intently reading. They were almost done with _A Christmas Carol_. Her mother was a beautiful Muggle with long, straight, dark hair and soft green eyes. Perfect teeth. Draco walked in the kitchen to see the man sitting there with his _kiss the cook_ apron on, setting two more cups down on the table in front of him. A wakkle- no, waffle maker and batter were ready to go behind him. He was amazed at how much Muggles could do without magic. Her father had graying brown hair with hints of curls, and Hermione's deep brown eyes were definitely from him.

Wendell pushed a mug to Draco as he sat down, smiling at him. "Are you ready for this, Draco?"

He couldn't take the mug. His nerves were a little shaken. He hadn't expected them to be so close to the end of the book this early in the morning. "Not even close."

Draco pulled two rings from his pocket and set them on the table. One had belonged to Narcissa. The other had belonged to Lucius.

Her Father chuckled, sipping at his mug and examining the rings. His smile faded a little. "Y'know, I am really sorry we can't meet your folks. They must have been decent people."

Lucius might have tried to kill Draco for falling in love with a Muggle-born. Narcissa would have stopped him. She would've tried her best to understand and make it work. Their rings had eventually found their way to him. They had to, they were heirlooms after all. Draco had them both carefully examined by a cursebreaker to make certain they would do no harm to a Blood Traitor and Mudblood. Centuries of Malfoy's had worn these rings. It seemed blood status meant nothing in this case. Again, arrogance had caused the creators not to have any doubts over their future bloodlines. The rings did contain several powerful, ancient enchantments. The cursebreaker hadn't been able to discover what they were, but he knew enough to say they were blessings, not curses.

Draco had asked her Father for his blessing on their union the first night they had arrived. Wendell had told Draco he had it, but that it wasn't his he needed. Draco hadn't expected to ask her Mother. Monica had given him the most critical, calculating, Granger-ish stare down he had ever known. She wanted to know why. He said it was because he loved her daughter. That hadn't been good enough for the Muggle. She refused to give him her blessing. Monica demanded more from him. Draco was amused. So, this was where her stubbornness came from, then? Her father was likely a Hufflepuff. Her mother was a Gryffindor of McGonagall's caliber.

With that, Draco had put his hand on hers, made direct eye contact, and shown her the memory of Hermione being taken away from him, when his mother had died, and then the gut wrenching night Hermione had come back to him.

Monica had stared. A single tear had slipped from her eye and she had given her blessing. Then, wiping the tear away, she had asked Draco when and how he would propose. He told her about his family's rings, but confessed he hadn't figured out when or how. So, Monica told him it would be Christmas Day, and what he would be doing to make it happen.

He still wasn't sure this was okay. It was so sudden. Hermione had no idea he had been thinking about this. There was a nagging fear she would say she wasn't ready. He had planned to wait a few months, drop little hints, gauge her reaction, find out how she wanted a proposal to go… but Monica had refused that idea. She told him he would be writing his proposal at the back cover of that book, and then he'd wait.

Merlin, he hated waiting.

"Drink some tea, boy, it'll help."

Draco obeyed, taking a few sips and closing his eyes, inhaling the scent of the tea. He could see his words, penned there, waiting for her.

_Hermione,_

_The first night I fell asleep at Hogwarts, the sorting hat came to me in my dreams. I think it goes to every Slytherin. I only ever heard whispers. Nobody ever wanted to talk about it. I'm pretty sure it wants to say it at the feast, but we get sorted the fastest because it feels like we're about to die when we sit up there in front of the school. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Everyone sorted into Slytherin looks grumpy or cool as a cucumber. Nobody wants to admit they're that afraid. Believe me it takes all the strength we have not to start screaming. Anyway, in the dream, that hat gives us a warning._

_"Welcome young Slytherin, to your home away from home._

_Take shelter here and never fear beneath this water dome._

_I greet you true with warning blue, and caution you to hear. _

_Protect your mind: but guard your heart, for it's a fool, I fear._

_Pure of blood, Salazar took, but also pure of heart._

_It means that you will never do true love in bits or parts._

_Slytherin do not sometimes love, or sometimes need, now hear:_

_Your heart's a fool and it will choose an Always to keep near."_

_Hermione… come see me in the kitchen. I have a question for you._

_Always,_

_Draco_

A few minutes later… hell, it could've been been hours, he heard a gasp and then the sound of a mug as it shattered in the living room. Draco jumped and dropped his own mug to the floor, echoing the crash. He cursed softly, drawing out his wand to quickly repair the mug and push it away from his fingers.

Then she was standing there, in the kitchen doorway, looking surprised, staring at him, and at the rings on the table, eyes full of tears. She swallowed hard, her voice soft and steady. "You… said you had a question?"

Merlin, he wasn't ready. He took both the rings in his hands, standing, walking to her, taking her by the hands and sitting her in a chair. He opened his palm to her as he knelt in front of her. "I want to know… if you'll wear this with me…" he swallowed. "Hermione, I don't just want you to be my witch… I want you to be my wife."

Damn it, that wasn't a question. He had rehearsed this, practiced it over and over and over, and he still botched the thing. Hermione took his face in both hands and kissed him. She was crying. He hoped that meant yes. Then she was nodding, kissing him again, laughing and crying at the same time. "I want to be your wife, Draco."

He kissed her back and pulled away slowly. He felt breathless as this magic took over. Silver sparks came from his hand and gold sparks came from hers as their left hands rose in the air without their control. The rings rose from his palm, settled on their fingers. Hers flashed a soft red, his flashed a soft green as the rings automatically changed sizes to fit them. Their arms clasped tightly, as an unbreakable vow, and the colors spiraled from their own arms, to each other's. Green and silver wove all the way up her arm, to her heart. Red and gold wove all the way up to his. A shower of red, green, silver and gold glitter exploded around them as they both leaned forward and kissed again. Their arms released as the magic pulsed around them, but neither let go. It was done. Their magical cores were bound now.

Hermione laughed again. She threw her arms around him. Draco held her to him tightly, standing, burying his face into her hair. "I love you, Draco." she whispered as she clung to him.

He put her down gently, taking her chin and kissing her softly on the lips, "I love you, always, Hermione..."

Draco suddenly remembered there were other people in the room. Her parents. That made this a million times better. He smiled, "I think you're going to want to see this," he muttered, lightly nuzzling her nose. Hermione turned around quickly in his arms, keeping his hands wrapped around her body. Wendell had tears streaming down his face as he smiled at them. Monica was standing behind him, composed, a hand gently resting on his shoulder, and a soft expression was on her face. "That was a beautiful bit of magic to see… congratulations, sweetheart!"

Wendell couldn't speak, or stop crying. He leaned forward, holding his face in a hand, shaking his head at the table with that smile. Draco let go of his witch. By magical law now she was his wife, but she might not understand that until after the wedding. That was okay. Hermione and her mother embraced tightly. Wendell took his hand and shook it firmly. Then, Hermione and her Father had embraced, and dissolved into a puddle of tears together on the floor. Monica put her arms around him and gave him a squeeze. "Welcome to our family, Draco…"

Monica paused suddenly as she looked over his shoulder. She whispered to him very quietly, urgently. "Draco…"

He turned around quickly, looking through the front window. There was the faintest image of Lucius and Narcissa standing there, flickering in the snow, bundled for the cold. His father was frowning, but he rolled his eyes when he realized Draco saw him. The man sighed heavily as he forced himself to smirk and gave a patient nod. Narcissa had tears rolling down her beautiful face, and she was smiling, beaming, nodding at him wordlessly. Her mouth moved. Lucius put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to his side. He could almost hear her voice, one last time. _...Love you, darling…_

Draco blinked and they were gone. So, that was how it was with Muggles, was it? Some of them must have had just enough magic to wake it up in their children. He realized a single tear had slid down his face. Monica's hand rose and she brushed it wordlessly away, a knowing look on her face now. She gave him a small, secret smile, and he raised a hand, brushing the single tear away from her face as well.

"Breakfast," Wendell managed to rise from the floor with his daughter. They were both crying. "Everybody get in here today, I can't be trusted with this blasted machine alone."

Christmas Day was very different this year. They spent most of the day here, then took Hermione's parents with them to the Burrow, absolutely jam packed with guests. There, everyone had flipped out of their minds to see rings on their hands. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing, clutching Hermione to her just as hard as she had Ginny, and then repeating that same emotional hug to Draco. Molly and Monica sat down almost immediately to start planning the wedding. They were going to be disappointed when his plan blew theirs out of the water. He summoned a binder with the wedding plan and placed it down between the witches before they got too far. Both women paused, flipped it open, then stared at it, leaning forward on the table, flipping pages quickly, taking turns to stare at him, then back to the book, then back to him, then back to the book.

"Dear Lord," Monica whispered in surprise, "When did you do this? You've really planned all this yourself? How?"

"I'm a Malfoy," he explained with a shrug, feeling wonderfully full of himself. "You ladies have an appointment with Ginny to find Hermione's dress, and your dresses tomorrow. It's all been arranged. We'll be married at midnight on New Years." Malfoys were _always_ married at midnight on New Years. There was strong magic in the end and in the beginning. "George has volunteered to perform the ceremony. You tell me what else you want… and it's done." He smirked at the witches as he went to join George for some Firewhiskey. "Let me know if you think I missed anything."

Draco had a feeling that his dreams were safe from nightmares now, with this ring on his hand. He didn't know how he knew, but he trusted the magic he felt. He also somehow knew that he would never be able to lie to her again. That was interesting. He'd been working on that on his own, but it appeared there was a blessing in place to make sure he had no other choice. There were other blessings that he couldn't decipher yet. They'd have to activate someday to understand.

Midnight came and Draco's heart pounded a little bit as he convinced Hermione to take a flight over the fields of snow. They found their way back to that cluster of trees, covered in snow, where they had drank the firewhiskey, where Ginny had told him about her wand, where they had first laid together in a hammock. He enchanted the hammock back, with the glowing balls of light. They lay there, surrounded by another enchantment to be warm, and he summoned one final box to his fingertips, handing it to her silently. She opened it carefully and gasped. A silver necklace he knew well glittered softly in the dim light, three emerald jewels sparkling.

"Hermione… this belonged to my mother," Draco muttered softly as he kissed her forehead. "I'd be very grateful... if you wore it on our wedding day. I know green isn't your color, but-"

She softly closed the case, sat up and kissed him to shut him up, resting her forehead against his, she nodded. "We still have to pick a day."

"Done." Draco smiled, "We don't have to do anything right now. It's all done."

"What?" she pulled away, looking confused, and amused. "Oh yeah? We don't, now, do we? Are you using the royal we, husband?"

Draco held his breath for a moment and then smiled a little apologetically at her. She was a tiny bit irritated, he could tell… but it _was _all done. It was _all _ready. She didn't need to do a damn thing, and he kind of liked spoiling her this way. But, he hadn't considered she would want to plan it with him. It wasn't done that way in the Malfoy family. She had a lot to learn about the good traditions in his house.

"Sorry, wife," he muttered with a smile, "Well no, I'm not sorry at all, actually…" Damn that enchantment. "Everything's already done. Midnight. New Years. The Mothers are looking at the plans now. You can take the book home with you and read it tonight." She gave him a playfully irritated look. He reached a hand to her face to pull her down for another kiss, eyes glittering in amusement, "We can plan the honeymoon together, though."

**Author Note 6/2/2019**

Oh. My. God. This has been a ride. If you make it here, thank you for reading/following/favoriting/reviewing! I've tried to respond to reviewers as I've gone along. I told someone in a message that this story felt like breathing. It's been a very long time since I've written this way. I would wake up at weird hours with an idea, and not be able to sleep until it was down. What a fun experience this has been!

I will be going through this to find all my typos, tense errors and grammatical mistakes. You will see updated chapters as I go through to find those things. Feel free to PM me if you see something. I have a tendency to mix up letters frequently: saw instead of was, tis instead of sit. Or, completely leave out a word that I see when I read, but isn't actually there.

I will also be updating this to archive of our own when my corrections are complete. It will be the same username, lotusinthedark. And same story name, Phoenix Flames… but there will be a few more adult chapters later!

I would love to hear what you thought about this story. Please leave a review, share it with friends, or PM me :)

I never know where to put this, so the end sounds like a good place. I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. I love them all dearly! It has been a pleasure to write for all the different personalities. I hope I'll get hit upside the head with another idea soon.

P.S. Guess my House! Just a hint, it ain't Hufflepuff.


	53. Chapter 53: Bonus - New Year Draco POV

**Chapter 54: Bonus Chapter - New Year Draco's Perspective**

**Author Note:**

**Someone wrote to me and requested this chapter from Draco's perspective. Sooo.. Tada! Enjoy :)**

The New Year party was magnificent. Draco was a little smug of how well everything had turned out. He knew how to plan events. Narcissa would've been pleased. There had been more people at the Manor than he had seen in years. Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Ron, George, Percy, Bill, Fleur, Luna, Xenophilius, Neville, Alice, Frank, Kingsley, and the whole host of guests that Molly Weasley had planned to have at her home- Hagrid, Minerva, The Diggory's, Arthur's work friends, Weasley extended family, so many people he had never met. Andromeda even attended, although she had requested some time alone in his mother's room. She didn't seem to be in a celebratory mood. Draco understood. The presence of so many people distracted him a bit from the ache he still felt from losing his parents, but it also reminded him of that ache. Strange. The fiendfyre never destroyed the valley. Apparently, the magic in Narcissa's blood had erased much of the suffering from Luna's vision. That was a bitter pill to swallow.

Kissing Hermione at midnight for the first time had been well planned and executed. They had been secluded behind the waterfall- beyond everyone's eyes. Hermione had started to try to undress him. His heart pounded for it, but a vivid vision of her dropping to the ground paired with the sensation with equal intensity. He had to refuse.

Draco wasn't sure how much longer he could push her away. They both wanted it, hell, they both _needed_ it by now, but his mind was cruel. Why couldn't he stop the visions of losing her? What was wrong with him?

Two weeks into the New Year, and it was starting to strain things between them. He had started sleeping on the couch, both at the Manor and the Burrow, because she started seducing him in his sleep. It was awful to wake up in the middle of the panic attack because his witch was trying to please him. He needed to figure this out. Draco had secretly ordered a few books to research the problem, but nothing they said was really helpful. Be honest with your emotions, give it time, don't feel pressured, let it happen, no need to rush. Fucking useless!

He decided to try anyway, but that made everything worse. They'd ended up half naked together, multiple times now, but either he'd told her he needed to stop because his chest was suddenly too tight, or he hadn't been able to get hard. That stung deeply. That stung in a way he had never known. It was humiliating to have her in his arms, and want her so badly, and feel his body to _refuse_ to obey. Hermione was concerned about him and had softly asked him, more than once, to bring it up with Healer Thomas. She never demanded it, but the insistence was there. Reluctantly, he promised her. That was going to be grueling. How was he supposed to look a Healer in the eye and _say_ he had this problem? He managed, a bit unwilling to admit all the details, but he forced himself to do it. Panic attacks, inability to get an erection, responding to Hermione in such a terrible way, the visions of her dropping to the ground, his nightmares… it was torture to feel this weak, but he had promised. Draco did not go back on his word.

Healer Thomas' response surprised him. The man had immediately given him a list with a variety of options to help- charms, potions- but had honestly said that most likely it would just take _time_. None of the options sat well with Draco. He didn't want to have to rely on a charm or a potion to be with Hermione. Her contraceptive potion was different- that prevented pregnancy. This… this would make him capable… but it wouldn't make him ready. What if he had a panic attack in the middle of something? That thought made him feel worse.

As if reading his mind, Thomas cautioned Draco that using something to make him capable of physically having sex wasn't going to stop the visions of losing her. Thomas had been there through everything, he had seen Lucius, and Narcissa, and Hermione, and Draco through all of it. He calmly explained that having a problem like this after all the stress Draco had been under for the past few years was completely understandable.

"Honestly, the wizarding war, then Azkaban, then the way your parents were attacked, your father's death, your mother's death, the shock of Hermione's attack, visiting her in that state week after week, and the energy spent waiting to heal her?" Thomas shook his head, hands out to the side, "Draco, I know it sucks, but it makes sense. It _will_ get better, and you have to trust that your body and mind will work it out. Try to take it easy on yourself. It's only been a few weeks. It's going to take a little more time than that for your stress levels to balance themselves out."

The Healer hadn't made Draco feel less of a man for his problem. That was shocking to Draco. If anything, it eased the knot of guilt he felt in his stomach. He hadn't expected Thomas to at all helpful. Maybe that was why Draco impulsively had decided to ask for his help with Hermione's parents. Revealing one more stressor to Thomas had the man shaking his head at Draco. "After what you managed to pull off with the Crucio Healings, I'm game for _any_ project you want help with… but I really wish you had talked to me sooner, Draco, we could've gotten you on some anti-anxiety potions so you didn't have to suffer. I was going to bring it up in November, but it almost looked like you had started taking them on your own." Thomas clapped him on the shoulder. "Sounds like that might be worth it, though. Minimal risk. How about we start you out on a small dosage and see if that helps at all? It won't fix things… but it might help minimize the impact of the panic attacks."

The potion helped. Draco was _relieved._ He became obsessed with the memory project for Hermione's parents. He'd even started to feel rushes of arousal and desire for Hermione again _without_ panic attacks, with minimal rushes of memories tearing at him. Most of the time it was when she was sitting there, working on her notes for her parents. He was tempted to tell her the truth- but damn it he wanted to surprise her! In the very least, he could let her use that book from his family. Draco beamed at her every time he saw her working on it, and he had to hug and kiss her. The panic attacks were receding in intensity, just with those simple touches, just with the anti-anxiety potion. He'd gone to Healer Thomas and they kept working to adjust the dosage and strength slowly.

They also spent countless hours pouring over his notes and calculations. Thomas brought Amy into it, saying that he needed her brain. Draco suspected that Thomas had a strong desire to remain in a small room with the small witch. He didn't burst that bubble, though. The flirtatious energy between the two of them made him recall it between him and Hermione. He hoped the anti-anxiety potion would get to the right strength, and soon. He hoped they could figure this out and he could come home one night and drag her down to Australia to make it happen. Draco had to admit that he was more than a little obsessed with this project. It was eating up all of his time, and he _missed_ his witch. She'd understand soon.

Soon wasn't soon enough. That night, close to midnight, his witch had asked him where he was going, what he was doing, why he was gone all the time. Draco didn't want to tell her. He tried to deflect it. Then, she'd forced him to promise to come home before midnight. That surprised him, but he could see she was anxious. He hadn't meant to do that… he just wanted to fix everything… it was a promise easily made. Keeping it would be a little tricky. Draco lost track of time when he got into projects like this.

Before he left for St. Mungo's the next morning, he pulled his old apparition clock from the drawer and set it to midnight. Hopefully that would ease her mind later. Maybe he should pick up some flowers or a book for her before he stopped at St. Mungo's... a book. That was more fitting. She calmed down when she was reading. Draco stopped by a bookstore before he made it to St. Mungo's and tucked something that looked interesting into his bag. Then, he, Thomas and Amy sat down to go through everything for the thousandth time. They were _so _damn close. There was going to be a breakthrough this week, he _knew_ it, he _felt_ it!

He was startled when Thomas warned him it was ten til midnight. He didn't want to quit working, but he needed to wrap things up before the apparition clock took him home. They walked out into the hallway.

"Come on, Draco, can't you stay just another hour?" Amy was bouncing on her heels. "It's so close!"

Thomas' eyes asked Draco to leave. So, the man was finally going to _do _something about that flirtatious energy, was he? About damn time. "Can't, my witch'll have my neck, Amy. Besides, I think you've got other plans tonight."

Thomas laughed. Amy suddenly reached up, took Draco's face in both hands and kissed him once on each cheek. "Maybe I do," she giggled. Draco's eyes went wide in shock. Amy turned and repeated the same gesture to Thomas. The two looked like they might go at each other right there in the hall. Draco felt a little awkward, and felt his face flush. That was a bit much for him at this hour.

Draco saw Hermione at the end of the hall. He froze. What was that face? She looked… hurt. Then the hurt went through several shifts of emotion, and he watched her turn and apparate away. Fuck. She was running away from him? Like she had run away from Ron when she was on the broom? In his gut, he knew this wouldn't end well. He had to stop her.

He appeared behind her and saw her wand raise to strike him. That was a surprise. Reflexively, he disarmed her and then, he flicked his wand. All the windows and doors slammed shut. Even the fireplace slammed closed so that the floo powder would be useless. He went to the bedside table, opened a drawer angrily, threw both their wands inside, slammed the drawer shut, then turned a key to lock it. His heart was pounding in his ears. Why was she this angry? Why was she trying to run? Why did she try to attack him? What had he done?

Draco had never seen her so cold to him. "Give me back my wand, Draco."

He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring coldly at her. "Absolutely not. I'm not letting you run away like this."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "I said, _give it back_!"

Draco's eyes never left hers as he shook his head no. "Not a chance."

Dark eyes narrowed and now she was stomping over towards him. "I wasn't asking! I'm telling you- you're going to give it back!"

He uncrossed his arms, stalking forward to meet her. "I have a better idea. You're going to stay here, and we're really going to _fight_ this one out, Granger."

Fear bubbled in his chest at that look on her face. He had _never_ seen this witch look so angry, and so hurt. This was bad. He had done something wrong. She just needed to tell him what it was. She didn't look talkative, though. He kept forward, and now she stepped back. That wasn't good. He should probably stop. He couldn't. He wouldn't. What if she pulled the door open to flee and discovered it was unlocked? He needed to keep her focused on him.

"Wands not allowed, doors stay locked til this is solved." Draco lied softly, hating the next sensation in his chest. It fucking hurt to say the next words. "Explain why you're trying to leave me." Her back hit the wall.

The words exploded out of her. "Draco, you're hiding something from me!"

The next lie was reflexive, too. "I am not!" Those eyes caught him. She knew it was a lie. Damn. That made it worse.

"Don't you dare!" Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes at him, "Don't you dare try to lie to me!" His witch wasn't going red- she was going white. He had never, ever seen her this angry. "Explain why you've been going to St. Mungo's all the time- and why you blushed when Amy kissed you!" She was shaking with rage. "Did something happen between you two while I was stuck like that? Is it still going on? Is that why you won't touch me?"

His eyes widened in understanding, and disbelief. "_What?!_ Are you _insane?!_" Relief punched him in the stomach. He laughed, the sensation loosening the knots of dread in his chest and gut. She had no idea that Thomas and Amy were likely moaning behind closed doors, right now.

That was a mistake, too. He couldn't win tonight. Hermione tensed and stomped her foot hard on the ground with her first three words, nearly getting his foot under hers. "_**Don't you dare**_ laugh at me! I SAW you with her, just now at St. Mungo's!"

He tried to stop laughing unsuccessfully, and he tried to gently take her hand. He could fix this, it was going to be alright. It did _not_ help that he found it kind of attractive that she was jealous. Saying that would probably just keep making things worse, though, so he decided to try to deescalate the situation. Draco began to explain. "Hermione, listen, you're jumping to conclusions-"

Hermione tore her hand out of his, yelling at him. "THEN TELL ME THE TRUTH, DAMN YOU!"

"I can't!" he roared back at her, still half laughing. _Damn_ she was sexy when she was angry. That wouldn't be helpful to say, either. Her passion, her anger, surprisingly filled him with a rush of desire. He couldn't help teasing her a bit this time. "It's supposed to be a surprise, you fucking jealous witch!"

Hermione's eyes flashed at him. The next thing he knew, her hands held his face, one hand digging into his hair, and kissing him harder than she ever had- nearly forcing her tongue in his mouth. Draco stiffened as his body _responded_ for the first time in _weeks._ He could feel himself starting to get hard. The relief that swept through him as his heart started to pound took his breath away. He pulled back, savoring the sensation, about to tell her when her fingers released his hair and- _SMACK!_

Her hand had smacked him across the face. Draco held his breath as he went rock hard in an instant. He caught her wrist and pinned it above her head, his laughter gone, a furious glint in his eyes. That had been a surprise, and he didn't entirely enjoy being hit in the face… but he definitely didn't entirely _not_ enjoy it. Her other hand hit him, turning his face with the blow. He trapped that one too, frowning now. One cheek would bruise, he was certain. However, his body now trembled slightly with restrained desire. He needed her, he wanted her, and he wasn't sure how much he was going to be able to express in words. Plus, she was still furious. This wasn't the time for his body to respond. Then, Hermione gave him the last bit of fuel he needed. Her words tumbled, unrestrained, "Damn you, it's been _months_, Draco! I _want_ you! I want you so much it _hurts_! Why are you making this so difficult?"

Well then, they were on the same page. Good. Draco's lips crushed to hers as he pushed her up against the wall with his body, a wonderfully familiar out of control sensation in his kiss. His strong hardness pressed against her thigh. The relief he felt at finally responding to her was clouding his senses. They needed to be naked. Now. He pulled away to tell her, but she opened her mouth first. "And another thing-"

He kissed her, more gently, squeezing her wrists softly. He _needed_ her. She bit his lip and he pulled back quickly. "Not now! Get your hands off of me!" He released her immediately but didn't step away. She pushed at his chest to force him to back up, and stuck an angry finger at his face. "Don't you try that now, Draco Lucius Malfoy, I'm not done yelling at you!"

"Hermione, I can't fix everything at once!" He growled, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it away from him. He stepped forward and her fingers curled against his undershirt. He kept his hands off her, but his lips brushed her ear as he continued in an angry hiss. His body was trembling slightly in restraint. He was finally ready for this, but he didn't have enough sense to explain it now. "How am I supposed to _think_ about anything else, after hearing you say that? You can yell at me as much as you want _after _I fix this..." His teeth nipped at her ear, hoping she was _just_ as frustrated as he was. Hermione put her hands on his belt and undid it rougher than she should've. "I don't care if you're ready for this or not, Draco, you had _better_ finish what you're starting."

He was. He would. Merlin, he _loved _this side of his witch. Maybe he needed to make her angry more often. Maybe that was stupid. He just needed to get his hands on her now.

After they'd reconnected against that wall, on the couch and in bed, she'd forced him to tell her what he was being so secretive about. Draco hadn't given in willingly, but eventually he got up, gone to get a notebook from his potion lab, and laid it in her lap. He could've just summoned it… but he needed a moment to absorb everything. A delayed panic attack caught up with him at the lab. He could deal with that. It wasn't as bad as it normally was- but he did need to take a few minutes to breathe before going back to her.

When Hermione finished turning pages, she sat there, stunned, and had begun crying and apologizing intensely for overreacting and behaving so poorly. Draco had laughed at her again, but he'd also kissed her forehead, and asked her to promise him something for the first time.

"Granger… you better fight with me when you're mad. Lock up our wands, lock down this room, and hit me if you want to. Yell-scream-bite- I don't _fucking_ care…" he kissed her temple, "...but promise me you'll never walk away again without a fight. Don't you try to run away from me like that, ever again." He put a finger to her lips for a moment before she spoke. "Only promise me if you _mean _it."

"You weren't home by midnight." Hermione growled irritably at him, frowning.

"It wasn't midnight!" Draco argued back immediately, searching the walls for the time. Hermione took his jaw and pulled it down, pointing to the one by their bed, then pausing in confusion. That one still had both hands pointed to midnight. Her forehead creased in confusion, and she slowly sat up, taking it in her hands and giving it a shake. "What?"

He half smiled and half frowned as it took it away from her, looking almost amused. "I forget that you muggle-borns don't know about so many things about the wizarding world. Hermione," he kissed her softly, shaking his head in amusement, a grin splitting his face as he shook the damn clock in his hand and spoke patiently. "You were reading my apparition clock. It would have automatically summoned me back here by midnight, if you'd given it a chance. I set it up today so you'd _know_ I would keep my promise, even if just barely… I knew the meeting tonight could've run late. We're so close to figuring this out..." He rested his forehead against hers with a sigh, "What am I going to do with you, witch?"

She burst into tears, upset that she'd gotten everything so wrong, and that he had actually tried to show her everything was alright. At that point, Draco was back to laughing at her, although he did hold her close and kiss her and pull at her curls until the tears had finally stopped. _Stop crying, you silly witch…_ he thought as he held her.

Not long later, she was falling asleep in his arms again. Everything was good. Everything was finally back to the way it was supposed to be. Draco's mouth felt a little out of control. Now that his body was under control, there was so much he needed to say! "Hermione…Are you awake?" She didn't respond, was she asleep? "Granger?" Silence.

Draco sighed, rested his head against the pillow and started talking non-stop. "Woman, I thought I lost you today. When I saw that look on your face, I wasn't sure there was any way to bring you back. I don't think I've ever seen anyone that angry. I'm surprised you didn't punch me in the face the second I got back." This felt better. This felt good. He needed to be honest with her… but he wasn't entirely ready for that yet. It was easier to practice while she was asleep. "I'm still trying to figure out how to keep from lying to you… it's an old habit, and it's going to take a long time to kick it… but I'll always tell you what they are eventually. I told you one today- one you didn't call me out on… the door was never locked." He closed his eyes for a moment in relief. Telling the truth had always been harder than lies. Why was it different now? "You could've walked out anytime… Merlin, I'm glad you didn't, I'm still too afraid to tell you this… but it'll never be locked. You can always walk away if you need to… as long as you come back. I'm not beyond dragging you back, if I have to, but I hope you don't make me do that."

Draco relaxed then. Telling her the truth was… good. "I love you, witch…" he was falling asleep, his words unclear as he spoke, "…and I always will…"

For the first time in many months, he slept with sweet dreams brought on by nothing more than the feeling of his witch in his arms.


End file.
